Deliverance from Depression: Early Childhood Memories - Part I
I will start with this thought: CHANGE IS INEVITABLE. I need to trace my life back to my origins (just a little history here, so please bear with me). And I will try to go as far back as I can.
What do I remember?
So, yes, there I was, in the state of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. (That's where I was born and raised until my early 30's. You may look it up on the map if you can't visualize it in your mind)
My earliest childhood memories bring me back to preschool age.
My first birthday party - 1965
(I so wanted to touch those bunnies on the cake!)
My dad was an officer in the Brazilian Navy.
Daddy (far left) - Naval Academy Graduation - 1952
Mom was a teacher.
Mom's Graduation 
Mom and Dad's Wedding Day
(Dad, Mom, and me - 1968)
We lived in an apartment, and I was the only child.
Daddy traveled most of the time. When he came home, I was always so thrilled to see him! He would take me to the beach or the park. My best memory of Daddy was the evening storytime. He would pick me up and carry me back and forth along the hallway, my head on his shoulder, my little arms around his neck. He would tell me stories he made up about little animals, such as rabbits and prairie dogs. Daddy had a trick to find out whether I was asleep or awake: he would slightly change the story or the name of the characters. If I stopped correcting him, it meant I had fallen asleep, so he would gently put me to bed.
Mom was loving, cheerful, and emotional. She loved to sing, and we would always have music playing on the radio or on the record player. Mom taught elementary school kids. She would work all day long and sometimes evenings, teaching adult students. I remember having nannies around most of the time while she was working. I often cried because I missed her deeply.
On the bright side, I eagerly anticipated sunny weekends! Those meant we would go to the beach on foot (about a mile one way) with my cousins and friends. Mom would bring water, cut-up buttered French bread, oranges, and bananas for us to snack on during our short break from playing on the sand and on the water. Sometimes, she would buy us popsicles and some airy doughnut-shaped cookies sold by vendors walking the beach with their Styrofoam boxes and strapped goodies.
We did not go to church on Sundays, but Mom would always walk into the neighborhood catholic church. We would kneel down to pray the 'Lord's Prayer,' 'Holy Mary, Mother of God' and finish up by making the sign of the Holy Cross over our foreheads, saying: "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen." In my family, people frequently used phrases like 'Thank God', 'God willing',' 'May God bless you', 'Go with God', 'Stay with God', 'Sleep with God and the Angels'.
Mom had a Holy Bible on a book stand on the piano, but I don't recall her ever reading it. I would sometimes flip the pages and look at the colorful illustrations, wondering who those people were and why Jesus was bleeding on the cross. Those images made me scared and sad.
When I was 4, I asked my mom to teach me how to read and write. And she did. Daddy was amazed.
When I turned 6 years old, I lost my Daddy. He died in a car wreck. I was not taken to his funeral. It was as if Daddy had gone on a trip only to never return.
Daddy
I remember walking up to my mom, her eyes red and swollen with tears, and asking her: 'Mommy, will I be happy?'
Trying to smile amid her tears, Mom said: 'Yes, surely you will be happy!' Mom's answer seemed to suffice for the moment. And I remember turning around and running off to play with my toys.
And so I went on living life. And life brings inevitable change.
How do these changes tie into depression later in our lives? I can only suppose that, in my case, the loss of my father has deeply channeled my heart towards the search for a daddy, of a father figure. I was unaware of it then, but now I can see it clearly. (I will write more about that in later posts)
How may I end this blog post on a positive note? Fast-forwarding into the future, I found myself navigating out of those stormy waters of tears and fears... After much sorrow and struggle, I discovered a FATHER who never leaves nor forsakes us. Even when we don't 'feel' His presence, He is always there. I heard Jesus Christ is the only way, truth, and life. The only way to the FATHER. And I came to the point of accepting that truth).
I realized that CHANGE IS INEVITABLE, but change can bring deliverance and safety. All things work out for the good of those who love God, who loved us first.
And if I should die today, I know exactly where I am going: right into the arms of God, the ever-present Daddy who will carry me in His arms and tell me the most beautiful stories while I lay my head on His shoulder…
Until then, the journey of this life continues...
