Where I'm from, where I'm at...

My husband and I recently attended a back to school night function for the high school our boys attend.  We each had a schedule for one of the boys and for an hour and a half we entertained the school staff with our attempts to find the correct room, remember which hour we should be heading to next, and avoid using the potty so as not to be "late."  In five minute increments we got to hear what we might expect for the year and lay eyes on who will be shaping the young minds of our mini-men.  The English teacher was a stand out.  She had prepared a very clever activity to draw parents into her corner of the market in literature and writing.  The students had been given a poem by George Ella Lyon called "Where I'm From."  I had never read the poem before, but it instantly drew me in.  Lyon uses a series of "I am" statements to reflect her childhood and the things that have shaped who she is today as an author.   After studying the poem, the students were asked to write their own reflective magna carta.  I say magna carta because there was hardly a dry eye in the house.  Parents were instructed to wander through the room and read the poems to locate their child--the name of the student would be on the back of the poem. 

As it turned out, the first poem I read was a heartbreaker, "I am divorce, destroyed foundation, and 'You're going to hell with that kind of attitude."  No joke...this was one angry, brokenhearted kid.  I turned the paper over and recognized the name as one of my son LR's lunch buddies.  His parents were no shows and I suppose I felt both relief for them in that, and sadness that they missed an opportunity to see what was lurking in their boy's heart.  I eventually found BB's poem which immediately brought both laughter and a knot in my throat..."I am from only white foods..." Yes, as a two year old my BB had gone through a six month period where only white foods were eaten, no matter what else was served.  Bananas, cottage cheese, white cheddar, chicken, string cheese, apples with no peels...it was bizarre, but it passed, just as the pediatrician said it would.  I read on, "I am from 'Dear Jesus' and Sunday School, I am from hide and seek, and legos on the carpet..."  I relished the moment of seeing inside my boys' minds and hearts about their childhood... the poems are real treasures I hope the boys will cough up for posterity at the end of the year. 

Three weeks ago, the Doctor (my husband) and I went out for coffee and hashed over my idea for starting a blog with spiritual musings.   He was sweet, supportive, and more than encouraging--none of that was surprising.  He is super charming that way.  The interesting part was when he shifted into the Privcacy Policeman.  There was an interrogation of sorts--"What name will you be using?  You know you cannot use your real name under any circumstances...the internet is a dangerous place for identity theft.  No personal information of any kind.  Are you going to share what city you live in?  What about the kids names?"  On it went...  Now, with all due respect to the Doctor,  I had done quite a bit of research by this point.  Many, many folks use their real names, first and last, and plenty of identifying information on their blogs.  Not street address and credit card info, for heaven's sake, but enough to know they are a REAL person.  A web log, after all,  is a personal diary of sorts.  To do this in some cloaked fashion is not really the gal that I am.  And, there is actually a code of ethics for blogging with transparency and honesty being foundational.  So, we came to an agreement about partial anonymity, and while I think my hubby's assumption that this blog will speak to the masses is flattering, the reality is it is mainly my friends and family that will probably have any interest.  Even my kids read the blog last night.  My daughter Rosie informed me "it was really good, Mom, except the 'making love to my husband part'..."  She raised her eyebrows and made a grimace of sorts.  Apparently TMI for a ten year old.  This from the sweet girl who will come into the bathroom in the evening when I am dressed for bed and inform me that the Target tank top and sleep shorts I am planning on wearing to bed "is a bit inappropriate."  Same eyebrows...no grimace.  We must have a variant Quaker gene in the family tree...Lord knows we have plenty of other mutations..it is no stretch to believe an outlying Quaker exists.  That leads us back to where I'm from... where you are from...the backdrop to your life today. 

Part of any journey is to clearly identify where you are beginning and what you are bringing along.  There have been times in my life I have been accutely aware of the cute, matching set of baggage I had in tow.  God in His grace and pursuit of my heart has definitely reduced the load, but perhaps it is a wise, instinctual rhythm of life to periodically take stock of our person.  So...here is "Where I'm From, Where I'm At."  The lock, stock, and barrel.

I am from turquoise skies, shades of violet vistas, crisp, cool mornings, and I am thankful to still be rooted in this my heart's desired home.

I am from a Daddy's tender heart of love and a Mommy's unending deposit... "Jesus, loves me this I know."  The  all will be well embrace of my father has now passed, yet I am tethered all the more securely to Him who conceived me at the foundations of the earth.  

I am from the wonder of tree branches and leaves, unending landscape views, still dark dawns,  candlelight coffee, Living Word.

I am from abandonment rescued, deception freed, and Love pursued, purchased, bought, and paid. 

I am from books and stories, miraculous intervention, and the counseling, comforting Spirit of I AM.  And I am fixed on this--all that I am, somehow caught up in all that He is, for someone other than me, myself, and I.  I am searching for a call beyond role and vocation, yet to receive an assignment...wild welcome.

So, friends, where are you from, where are you at? 

If you are techie handicapped like myself, to craft your poem, scroll a bit farther down and simply click "Post a Comment."  You can do this thing!