Ghosts From the Past

This was our last full day in Oklahoma.  If you have not been reading this blog, you may not know that one of my best friends and I discovered that we grew up for a period of our life in the same corner of the world.  Having made this discovery, we decided to take a road trip back there so we could put places and faces to the stories we have shared with one another throughout the years.

We ended our last day by driving out to a place call Ghost Mound.  Why it is called that I do not know, nor does my friend, but that doesn't really matter.  We had taken his mom and her friend out to dinner. When we arrived back at her house, her friend suggested we head out to the place.  I was surprised at how quickly Dana said lets go. 

As we drove to the mound, he told me of how when he was 7 or 8 his school had gone on a field trip to the spot.  He remembers how when they arrived he was kept at the bottom as the rest of the children climbed up to the top of the rock formation.  It was a painful memory.  He had thought of going back there and climbing it when he was in High School but never did.  Now 43 years later, our bellies full from dinner, we were driving through the back roads of Western Oklahoma in search this ghost from the past.

We pulled up to a chained gate, parked the car and started to walk to the base of the mound.  Grasshoppers, too numerous to count, were swarming at our feet, and bounced off our legs.  The sun was getting low in the sky, the light was golden and the air was still humid and warm.  It was beautiful.

Needless to say, we did not stop at the bottom of that rock.  Straight away we scrambled to the top.  Dana had the satisfaction of finally getting to climb up Ghost Mound. I got to share the moment.  We both beheld the beauty of the plains that rolled out before us like a carpet.
 

It was a great end to the day.

We began the day by going to the place where I had lived, Burns Flat.  Back then it was an Air Force base.  My dad was stationed there for nearly three years.  I moved there sometime after I turned one.  We left when I was four.  Just hearing those facts may make you wonder if I had any memory of the place at all.  

Surprisingly, there are several vivid memories I have carried with me for my whole life.  The kinds of memories that get cemented in a little boys mind and have a way of shaping how he see himself and the world for the rest of his days.  Unless of course, the man he becomes is willing to take a journey back to revisit them and see them through adult eyes.

That is a big reason why we are here.

I used to have a metal peddle car that some of the older kids would push up the hill behind our house and ride down.  Now there are fences there, but back then it seemed like a bid wide open space.  To get to the top of this hill, if you can call it that, we would climb up the side of it.  Back then, it was kind of abruptly cut at the side walk and climbing to the top involved scaling what seemed to be a steep embankment of red Oklahoma dirt.  It was an easy task for the older kids.  As a three year old, I could barely make it, and often fell behind.  This was the first time I remember feeling as if I did not measure up.  It is the first time I felt like I did not fit.

On the corner of the street was a storm drain.  One day I was playing there and I dropped my toy rifle down into the hole.  I was probably trying to see how deep it was.  I ran and asked my dad to get it for me.  He was not happy.  Instead of getting it for me, he opened the grate and then lowered me into the drain.  I was terrified.  I knew there were snakes in there.  I cried and asked him not to put me in there.  He refused to stop.  He dropped me down in that hole and waited for me to retrieve my gun.  I grabbed it as quickly as I could and begged for him to lift me out. 

You can bet I never dropped my riffle down that storm drain again.  I also never felt like I could fully trust my father, or maybe anyone else for that matter, to keep me safe.  I had to do it myself.

I when I walked up to that drain it was clogged with wheat stocks that had blown into the neighborhood from the surrounding farms.  I kicked it away and sat down on the curb.  I had expected that it would be quite shallow. Maybe it would have only been made deeper and more sinister by a little boy’s memory.  I was surprised at just how deep it was and how big the pipe leading out of it was. When I reached down to pull off the grate it was stuck fast.  I commented to Dana that my father must have been very strong to be able to remove it.  Dana pointed out that it was welded shut.

If only it would have been welded shut back then.

There were other feelings that came to mind as well, not so much connected to the house, but to the place because they were awakened here. I remember feeling as if I was betraying my mom when she dropped me off at the babysitter because I climbed into bed with the lady.  I remember catching fireflies with Valarie and thinking how wonderful it was to be with her. I thought, one day, we would be married. I remember a bunch of families getting together to watch football and thinking I was the only one who did not like it.  I remember going to play with three brothers, and wishing I had one.  I remember never being able to keep up with any of them.

As we drove around the neighborhood and what is left of the base we talked about all of these memories, which were formed in the mind of a little boy.  They may seem silly to us adults, but they have had a real impact on who I have become.  Valarie was not the last girl I dreamed could make everything in life all right.  That incident with the gun was probably the last time I willingly put myself in a position where I would have to depend on someone else to keep me safe, and I am not sure I ever fully felt as if I measured up, fit in or was fully loved.

At least, not until I found a community of people, in a church in the town where I spent the rest of my childhood.  These people desired to create a place where people were loved, accepted and could find forgiveness.  I experienced all of that there.

This community helped to heal so much of what I came to believe from those early memories about the world and myself, but it didn't heal everything.

This was very apparent as we drove around Burns Flat, as I talked about these memories as an adult, and as the pain rose up from a deep place in my heart.

Now I know what you are thinking, “Why would you go back then?”  I went back because whether we realize it or not, the emotions of those early memories have a way of continuing to affect how you relates to the world and others.  Even if you do not realize it is happening. 

You might say parts of ourselves gets stuck back there at age three and the only way get unstuck is to go back and allow yourself to see it as an adult. 

I wish I could tell you it is all tied up neat in bow, that this trip has somehow healed all that remained broken.  I cannot.  I am still remembering what it felt like back then.  I am still pondering what I came to believe because of these experiences. I am thinking through how those beliefs have influenced my life since then. Where these beliefs are false, I am laying truth over them.

This does not all happen in one day, nor can I do it by my own will.  I simply acknowledge what I have discovered and ask God for the grace need to heal these places.

This too is a journey.

As we climbed to the top of Ghost Mound, sweat was dripping down our faces, stickers were clinging to our legs, and we found ourselves scrambling precariously over loose rocks, but it was worth it. With each step that took us higher, I witnessed my friend’s hurtful childhood memory being replaced with the joy of finally reaching that peak.   When we got there he stood there in triumph.  I was blessed to share it.

This experience gives me reason to press into my own ghosts from my past.  It gives me hope that the journey is well worth it, and all things can be indeed be healed and redeemed.

Ghost Mound is a 1,572 ft mountain peak near Hydro, Oklahoma, United States. It ranks as the 155th highest mountain in Oklahoma and the 47991st highest mountain in the United States.