Snapshots

By Jan Zanoni

Jan Zanoni went from defeat to victory, from victim to victor, because Jesus led the way. Out of a past laced with emotional pain He has restored the peace and joy of remembering. In “Snapshots” she shares these experiences to encourage you, that He can do the same in your life, too—and so much more!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781937400347

Book preview

Him.

My Town

As far as I know there is still a brown-shingled, threestory house at 348 Prospect Street in Leominster, Massachusetts. On a low rise near the near the base of a higher hill, there it sits. I was six years old when we moved from a second floor apartment in downtown Leominster to this site in North Leominster. This was my New England home from 1943 until around 1980 when my parents sold it to move to a warmer climate; Florida.

Wickipedia has some interesting facts about Leominster (pronounced Lemenster). By 2010 it was the second largest city in Worcester County, in middle Massachusetts. This city sits on a low plateau, with rolling hills climbing up its northern and western sides. Downtown has a large, parklike area called Monument Square, reminiscent of old New England commons. An hour's drive east of Leominster on Route 2 brings one to the coastal city of Boston. About a half hour's drive south of Leominster is the city of Worcester (pronounced Wooster).

New England territory covers Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island. Local inhabitants of these states have various shades of accents, but each reminiscent of old England, from where early New England settlers came.

Our three-quarter acre property was surrounded on three sides by a high fence of large rocks fitted carefully together. On the fourth side, fronting our home was Prospect Street. In the 1940's and 1950's it was still safe for a child to roam freely in our neighborhood as well as through the nearby fields behind our stone walls and the more distant woods beyond. Being a tomboy, this is what I loved to do as often as possible, usually accompanied by my faithful dog, Sheppie.

We traveled by my childhood home in 2002 during a yearly visit to our New England families in Maine and Massachusetts. When we reached my old home I was so disappointed! All the surrounding fields had been transformed into a subdivision. We drove up the road winding through it and were heartened to find my favorite tree still flourishing at the top of that long hill. Its lateral limb, that was a favorite childhood perch of mine, had now grown many feet above our reach. This dear old tree had actually been preserved as the center of a small, grassy area now encircled by this road.

About a mile downhill from our house Prospect Street connected with North Main Street. When we turned right, there was Pierce School, my old elementary school. When we backtracked to the left, followed this road under a railroad bridge and continued on downhill in a winding fashion, we entered Main Street and the little business district of Leominster. Just at this entrance on our right was Merriman Road, intersecting Main Street. We had lived about a half mile up its hilly street in an apartment during my first six years. Then, Main Street took us through a small area of newer shops on each side; some replaced the old Methodist Church of my childhood which had since been demolished. We reached the town square with its many old trees. On the other side of the street there were still some of the older shops and businesses. Continuing on this road brought us about twenty-five miles later to the city of Worcester. Here is where my brother and I both attended college and I met my husband.

But right now I am remembering some of the stories my Mother told me of my childhood.

~ Part One ~

Childhood Days

Early Years

"...Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom, and strength and honor and glory and blessing!" Revelation 5:11-12

A gigantic painting of Jesus in a flowing robe hung on our church wall. Pictured in front of Him was a very small child in a tunic, facing Jesus' tall figure.

At age 18 months my comment, made as I looked up at this picture, was, Who is she? And why is the little girl looking like this?

On my baby face—all this, according to my Mother's account—a look of awe and wonder appeared as I put my little finger against my lip, my face upturned to the tall Stranger. This is my first recognized contact with the Lord Jesus whom I have learned to love with all my heart. But, like many children, my behavior didn't always show this.

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"And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors." Matthew 6:12

Our next door neighbor reported this to my Mother one day as they happened to meet in the adjacent yard of our apartment buildings, early that spring.

Did you know that your little girl repeatedly teased her younger brother all this past winter until he cried; then she would quietly move to the other side of the porch and wait for you to come out and scold him?

Oh, my! Johnnie was about a year old and I was not yet two.

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The Lord... is longsuffering toward us, not willing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9

Company had arrived. Mother and Mrs. Johnston were enjoying their tea and talking together. Mrs. Johnston's six year old daughter, Cathleen, was having a great time with my four year old brother who was delighted and honored by her attentions, or so it seemed. At any rate, neither of them had any time or interest for including me in their fun.

My little heart was wounded. What to do? Ah, ha! An ice cream cone—just what I needed on this hot, summer day. Getting some money (10 cents I think), I walked my five year old self the half mile down our residential hill to the drugstore at the corner of Main Street and our street. There I bought that ice cream cone and walked back home, enjoying every lick.

Where did you get an ice cream cone? both Johnnie and Cathleen asked me.

At the drugstore, I smugly replied.

But where did you get the money? one of them asked.

My confident answer was simple. Out of Mommy's purse.

However, the look of delighted shock on both their faces made me suddenly fearful of reprisal from Mommy.

Startled, I had to admit to myself, I really have done something wrong.

But, since no scolding was ever forthcoming I figured my two antagonists had not told on me. As the days went by a gradual relief set in; then I just forgot about it. I remembered this only lately, when writing this anecdote. Now I see how God's love and forgiveness stretches across my whole life.

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I will meditate on the glorious splendor of Your majesty, and on Your wondrous works. Psalm 145:5

During the spring that I was in first grade, we moved from our second floor apartment in town to a big, old, three-story house with a damp, low-ceilinged basement that we called a cellar. This home that my maternal grandfather helped our parents buy, was set on a small hill. Behind our three quarter acre property was a longer and much higher hill, part of the farm country surrounding us. Just below our house was a winding road that we accessed from our sloping