Everybody has a Story: Adapting & Transition

One of the last pictures before leaving Mexico.  The dress, I made, with the border of embroidered daisy flowers, baby blue in color.

At our 8th grade graduation,    singing "My Jesus, I love Thee"                                                       

     With a touch of sadness, my Mexico days were slowly drawing to a close.  I was to undertake yet another year of school away from home.  My brother and I packed our meager belongings and with Dad accompanying us to the border by bus, we began our journey to Oregon.  At the border we were met by relatives who we then travelled by car to San Francisco.              Arrangements had been made for us to live with our paternal grandparents.  Although, I was looking forward toward these new adventures, there was some profound sadness at leaving my mother, my sister, and younger brothers.  In those days homeschooling was not a favored option.  The transition into public middle school was brutal.  I was ridiculed and bullied, my brother began having horrendous migraines.        My grandmother was a great source of comfort, a great prayer warrior, and a great influence.  Although she was not well educated, she was a very godly woman.   I preferred the company of my grandparents over my peers as I felt so insecure.  I tend to think that this was where I was first drawn toward my future in CARE GIVING.