Archive for the ‘Memories’ Category

~* Where I’m From *~

February 20, 2007

May. 22, 2006 – ~* Where I am From *~

I saw this idea at Mother Hen’s and my past and present began to reel in my mind to form these words:

I am from a place filled with palm trees, ocean breezes, and bougainvillea. A place that melded honeysuckle, roses, and cow scents together. I am from barefoot days, long summers, library books, and root beer floats. I am from bicycles, swing sets, and roller skates. Baby dolls, dress-up, purses and make-believe. I am from mama cats, wild kittens, and the cutest pom-poo dog.

I am from public schooling. I am from rooms filled with the art work and written work of children. Rooms smelling of mingled scents of chalk, pencils, paste, and autumn. I am from cafeterias filled with the meshing aromas of tuna fish, waxy milk cartons, peanut butter, and macaroni and cheese.

I am from difference and alienation. I was one of those marching to a different drummer. Whether by choice or not, never really mattered. It was enough to be different. I am from mockery and ostracization which led much later in life to the strength of character to choose to be different, to choose not to be a mind-numbed robot following the crowd. I am also from compassion, compassion born of being different.

I am from beaches with strong, salty waves, undercurrents, and gritty sand that always ended up in our sandwiches and car. From happy memories spent at the zoo and at Disneyland. From treasured Thanksgivings, Easters, and Christmases.
I am also from sad childhood memories of never being sure what the weather inside our home would be: warm and sunny, frigidly chilly, thunder and lightening storms, or the equally frightening quiet before the storm.

I am from those who were from a generation of talking about the weather and current events, but not being able to talk about what was happening in a relationship. I am not from “Children should be seen and not heard”… but I am not far removed from that…in fact, I am from a place pretty close to that. I am from a “Spare the rod, spoil the child” and “Pride goeth before destruction” philosophy of child-rearing.
I am from those who didn’t have Dr. Dobson’s or Dr. Moore’s, or the many others who have taught how-to’s for marriage, child-rearing. schooling at home, and so much more.
I am from a father who was a Navy man in a world war. A man who became a carpenter working amongst wood shavings and sawdust that smelled delicious in an earthy way. I delighted, as a small child, in being swung around in his arms when he came home from work. A hard man who had soft moments. A man who didn’t seem to understand the necessity of give and take in relationships. He was a man, much like the wood he worked with: rough, hard, not very pliable. And like the word he handled, he was being slowly planed, chipped, whittled by the Master Carpenter. A man worked on lovingly and patiently, then called home after being completed by the Master’s hand. I am from a craftsman who himself was being crafted.

I am from a mother who baked and sewed, shopped and cooked, who loved and lived routine but who occasionally would agree to a game of Chinese Checkers. Not overly given to outward shows of tenderness, she showed her love through the thousands of daily acts of motherhood: cooking delicious, nutritious, varied meals; staying on top of the laundry; keeping a tidy home; packing bag lunches that were yummy; taking care to have the pantry and fridge stocked; making sure we made it to school, dr’s appts., music lessons; cleaning up after sickness without complaint, even after joining the work force. A woman who developed toughness from life’s hard knocks, sacrificing affections and dreams in the process. I am from a woman of velvet and steel.

I am from fig trees with Japanese beetles. Brothers who tied those beetles and flew them like kites. Brothers who teased me ’til I cried, who were my best friend and my worst enemy. Brothers who took me for rides in their cars and helped me buy mom and dad nicer presents than I could otherwise have afforded. Brothers who were and are talented musicians, artisans, and academics. Brothers who now have wives and kids of their own.

I am from weddings. Sisters who married while I was so young. Sisters who moved far away in distance, but with time became close-to-the-heart and best friends. I am from sisters who are skilled in homemaking, gardening, and hospitality and dressing so fine. Sisters who have that wonderful mystique of femininity that I somehow never quite grasped. Sisters who continue their education while being wives, mothers, and grandmothers. I am from late-night sister giggles and guffaws while our husbands look on in smiling bewilderment. I am from long telephone calls and all-too-short visits. I am from the side-splitting laughter that brings tears and aches. I am from all-too-real hurts that bring tears and aches of a different sort. I am from shared joys and shared sorrows, shared pasts and shared presents.

I am from that awkward position of being the baby of the family.. I am from benefitting the years of parental mistakes that preceded me. I am from always scrambling to catch up with the others, always being puzzled at the mysteries that everyone else seemed to have the inside track too. I am from pampered to pushed away because of the pampering. I am from isolation of years and birth order. I am from confusion of the why’s to finally understanding some of the why’s of certain family dynamics.

I am from grandparents who were joint pastors in a church that was culturally diverse before it was fashionable. Grandparents who spoiled grandchildren with coffee and real cream and as much sugar as you desired. Toast with real butter. Restaurants after church. I am from those who knew true hospitality, who ministered to hundreds away from home and family during war and peace. I am from those who suffered through the depression, who hated waste, yet who indulged their grandchildren as only grandparents can. I am from those who loved freely.

I am from a great-grandmother who gardened, canned, and baked up a storm well into her 80’s. Who made the best pickled okra, banana nut bread, and lemon chess pie. I am from strong, stubborn stock.

I am from wedlock to wedded. From dreaming of sweet relationships to living sweet relationships. I am from moments of singleness to moments of two being one. From joys and heartaches born by self to joys and heartaches shared with that special someone. I am from the scent of aloneness to the heavenly perfume of snuggling with my love, my best friend on earth. I am from dreaming all by myself of my own dreams to shared dreams with another. I am from traveling alone to sharing the most wonderful, life-long, even eternal adventure with my soul-mate.

I am from being child to being parent. I am from being in the womb to having life in my womb. From viewing this side from that side. From being the baby to parenting the baby.

I am from sweet baby smells & toddly-tots to blossoming youth and young adult and the circle continuing again. I am from thinking I knew all the how-to’s of parenting, to wondering how any of us, parents or children survive.

I am from moments of first words and first steps of childhood, to first steps and choices of adulthood. I am from public school product to homeschool activist. I am from hospital gowns and caps to graduate gowns and caps. From princess dresses to wedding dresses. From play army men to real army men. I am from tied apron strings, to cutting the apron strings loose. I am from having a mother-in-law to being a mother-in-law.

I am from life’s ever-flowing, ever-changing, yet never-changing river of life.

I am from right choices and wrong choices. I am from forgiveness, mercy, grace, and abundant lovingkindness. I am from thanksgiving and blessings: family, health, country, and most importantly a Savior’s love.

I am imperfection from imperfection… imperfection that aknowledged and taught the need of a Savior and His perfection. I am from Perfection, placed perfectly where I needed to be at precisely the right time, in all the right places to be drawn back to Perfection.

I am from the Master Craftsman Who continues to work on me, Who will complete me as He is the Author and the Finisher.
I am on the journey from Creation to Completion.