I saw this on my friend Kim’s blog, and though the contest is over, it’s interesting to look back and pull up the things that make up the fabric of our memories. Try it! And let me know what you write!
I am from homemade apple butter, from Palmolive dish soap, and the piano teacher with hands gnarled by rheumatoid arthritis who still played beautifully.
I am from the high desert breezes and ‘squash blossoms’ worn around the necks of indian, mexican and anglo women.
I am from the yucca, the cactus, and the mountain; the rosebushes carefully tended in the midst of cracked dirt, and the turquoise sky that hurts your eyes.
I am from being on time–which means 15 minutes early so no one is waiting on me and from eyes as black as a Spaniard’s. From Grandma Brown, Reba June and Nana Faye.
I am from the ‘don’t air out your problems in front of others’ and freely given hugs and kisses. From gentlemen with flawless manners, burgundy bathrobes and slippers, Coors beer and lawnmowers.
From “shut the door behind you” and gently spoken “wake up, sweetie”.
I am from the cold pew, smiling faces, arms reaching out to embrace and sun streaming through stained glass windows. Later–charismatic noise, songs whose words move you to tears, clapping and unbridled joy.
From impromptu guitar sing alongs with hippie uncles whom I worshipped. From “Pass it On” and “You Gotta Have Skin”. I’m from aunts who gave affection freely and made me feel pretty. Who later divorced said uncles and left me confused.
I’m from sun so hot it makes you shiver, wind so strong it blows dust into your hair and ears, and sunsets so beautiful you see the finger of God. I’m from homemade bread, meat loaf, tacos and enchiladas. I’m from Mexican and white worlds blended together beautifully and sometimes painfully.
From the Missouri doctor who was called to the remote deserts of New Mexico and stayed for the rest of his life, the Rio Grande, and the Grandmother whose gentle ways will linger in my memory forever.
From missionaries, preachers, and teachers.
I am from old black and white photos lining hallways. Standing on tiptoe, hoping to catch a resemblance to myself in them. Finding none, and being both relieved and disappointed.
I am from being self centered, a provincial mindset, to realizing the world is a bigger place than I’d ever imagined.
I’m from a nest so secure I had to get bumped out to find my wings. From timidity and shyness to talkativeness and willingness to (literally) live anywhere in the world. From living in the same town for 20 years to moving every few years, to learning that God is with me everywhere and uses changes for my growth and good.
I am from grace.