For me, memory consists of something like video clips with all sensations and emotions included. Without context, these clips don’t make much sense. The early memories have almost no context of their own. It’s only by putting them into the bigger picture gleaned from others, that they begin to make some sense. Later memories, seem to be filed as part of larger story. All of it is perceived through the filter of my own limited understanding. So here goes . . . 

One thing that is firmly there is all my childhood memory “clips” is a deep awareness of being loved. I was so blessed to be a loved child! I was the first child of Roger and Joyce Coon. Of course I don’t remember my birth, but I do remember being shown the sweet sketch my dad made of newborn me.

For the first few years of my life, we lived in the parsonage of the church where my father was pastor in McLane, Pennsylvania. My dad painted the fall picture of the parsonage and MeLane Church. That must be our car outside the parsonage. An early memory is sitting next to dad in a huge slippery wooden church pew, leaning on him as he sang, loving his deep voice reverberating in his torso. That memory is full of a feeling of safety and joy. I’m told I walked at nine months and was talking incessantly at a year old. Hmm. Poor mom.

It seems Christmas was a time to take pictures.  The top photo is me with mom and dad on my first Christmas. The picture below of me trying to hold little sister has a Christmas tree in the background.  I remember flashes of a deep feeling of tender protectiveness and attachment to my sister. She was so cute!  I loved her SO much – most of the time 😊

Our family was heading into a time of upheaval. My parents had decided we were going to Kenya! As I understand it, after listening to a Bible Club missionary speak about the need of discipleship training in Kenya, mom and dad decided to begin the process to go to serve there.  

In one of my very earliest memories, I am in a room full of bright and exciting floating things - balloons! And there was yummy food - cake! I must have been very small since the room seemed to be full of people’s legs. The emotion with this memory is pleased excitement and great pride in my dad and mom!  It seems I had some idea of God. I felt him, bigger than dad, HUGE, and loving. And he was proud of us too!! Years later, I asked my mother about that vivid memory. Mom said, as I remember, that it was a likely at a send-off party at McLane church.

That feeling that we were special to God because we were a missionary family was basic to my first years and stayed on through grade school and high school. Later, that feeling caused a lot of pain, and I came to understand that there was a damaging fallacy woven into my understanding of God’s love and favor. Now I’d say that the joy of walking in step with God isn’t dependent on vocation, but on willing service. The painful road to that understanding is a story for another day. 

Meanwhile, mom and dad, especially mom, carefully explained we were going to serve God in Africa. I remember excitement and joy. Someone gave me a brown baby doll. She was rather rubbery, but a nice size to hug. I remember hugging her hard and carrying her around. I had a Kenyan baby doll! 

The words of worship songs were already beginning to be important to me.I loved the sweeping actions of the song, “Wide, wide as the ocean”.

It was pure joy to copy mom as she taught me, and at a deep level feel secure in her love and in Jesus’ love for me. His love would reach me even in Kenya!  That song with its actions still comforts me and I’m 70 this year! You might want to try it yourself. If you don’t know the song, here's a link on Youtube 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=Ri-StyOL1I4. I hope it comforts you as well.