Prov.6: 34 For jealousy is the rage of a
man: therefore he will not spare in the day of vengeance.
Today’s topic is jealousy. I grew up with five older
siblings, me being the baby of the family. I don’t know what it was like when
my mother announced she was pregnant, AGAIN. But as years progressed, I heard
the stories.
My brothers’ could really care
less, since my oldest was now ten. My sibs would have been 10, 9, 7, 5, and my
sister 3. She was the one most injured by a new arrival because she was no
longer the baby. Arriving on my mothers birthday really put a wrench in her
baby-hood. I was now the baby, born on a special day.
It began before I could even walk,
this jealousy thing. My sister had a babydoll stroller and thought I would fit
in it perfectly. I didn’t, it broke and she held it over my head for life!
When I was three, her and my
brother (yeah, THAT one I speak a lot of in earlier posts) both decided to push
me on the swing. It was all fun until they pushed me so high I thought I was
going to go right over the top!
The next too high push and I
jumped! Yeah, a three year old, jumping off a moving swing is NOT a good idea! Especially
in our small chainlink fenced yard. I landed on the top of the fence with my
wrist, snagging it on the x formation at the top.
It pulled and tugged and I went to
the ground with blood oozing everywhere. Instead of picking me up, they ran
into the house to get my father who I believe was asleep on the couch. I was
blanking out. My father carried me in the house and all I remember was hiding
under the desk in fear of getting a whooping.
Instead, after a phone call to my
mother, he went after my bro and sister to lay a whooping on their butts. I
cringed, blacked out a bit. This is one of my first near death experiences. I
remember my mother coming home, being placed in the car, and driving to the
hospital.
To me it was a long journey. Down to Hanover Street, over
the bridge, to the Hospital. I distinctly remember the sensing of the water; I
remember the lights of the street lamps flickering by as we drove. I remember
being comforted by the trails of lights surrounding me. I awoke in the hospital
with stitches in my arm.
In later years I told my mother of
what I remembered; the lights, the water, the motion and being comforted, she
said we didn’t go over the bridge, the hospital was about three or four blocks
from where we lived. I still to this day claim an OBE! Out of Body Experience.
(to be touched on at a later time)
Song of Solomon 8:6 Set me
as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as
death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which
hath a most vehement flame.
The jealousy was evident from
birth. I don’t know who wanted me dead more my brother or my sister. Her claws
came out when she handed me a cigarette at seven (I know this because it was
BEFORE my grandmother died in 1974). She didn’t want me being a tattletale so
she gave me cigarettes, gave me my first joint around ten, gave me drugs,
alcohol and continued to make me an addict like the rest of the family. I had
no control over it because I was just struggling to fit into a dysfunctional
family.
Her jealousy showed when I got my
first Buzz Bike (two-wheeler with a banana seat). Her birthday was two weeks
before mine, but we both got bikes the same year, she thought mine was nicer
with streamers and a basket.
She was jealous every Christmas
when my mother tried to dispel the jealousy by getting us the same thing. My
sister always took the better of the two! I got a BabyAlive with a dented face,
a Barbie with a permanent bend in her hair (from being in the box wrong?) She even
went as far as popping my baby’s head off because I accidentally marked her
baby with a pen in an argument. (Yes, it WAS an accident!)
She was the pretty sister; I was
the cute one who would eventually grow taller than her by two inches. She was
the spiteful sister, I was the forgiving one. She hated, I loved; we were polar
opposites.
Even when it came boyfriend time,
she wanted to flirt with mine to prove she was the prettier of the two sisters.
Little did she know, her ugliness shined through all that beauty. She wanted
lots of kids; I wanted to be the good aunt.
I rejoiced and was happy with each
of her six births, and was there for her with each miscarriage. I was the one
looked up to, while she was just there, pouring out the drama so everyone would
accept her. She was in the hospital with her second child when I announced my
long awaited pregnancy (after I tragically lost my first child thirteen yrs.
prior.) She pretended to be happy but was angry that I had stolen her
limelight.
I was determined to get over the
past, while she clung/clings to it.
Even up to the day I left
Baltimore ten years ago, she let me leave while she was angry because of a rock
I placed on her beautiful oak table. I have forgiven it all and chalked it up
to sibling rivalry, but deep in my heart I know, she will never let the
jealousy of my birth go.
There’s so much more to tell…so
little time. ‘sigh’
Rom. 11: 11 I say
then, Have they stumbled that they should fall? God forbid: but rather through
their fall salvation is come unto the Gentiles, for to provoke them to
jealousy.
