I Am From

I saw this over at a blog called Owlhaven a while back, and have since then wanted to try it out for myself (although I didn’t use a particular outline, I just tried to write about my childhood).  Enjoy! 

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 I am from rainy towns, dry desert homesteads, and mountain communities.  From hauling water, filling generators, and stacking pile upon pile of chopped wood that my dad has cut from trees needing to be cleared.  I am from a river where my little sister and I take turns lying down on a bridge so we can wash each others’ long dark hair with its frigid water.  I am from people leaving and never coming back.  I am from a home ever changing. 

I am from lots of kids running around, making up their own games outside on long summer days.  I am from many bodies in a twin-sized bed, not out of necessity, but just for the company.  I am from large pots of  “gulash” for dinner, orange salad on the holidays, and weeks of meals made out of chicken, when that’s what’s on sale.  I am from a mother and stepmother who are always so busy that the word “relax” isn’t in their agendas.   

I am from a mechanics’ shop, where my dad works hard to make sure all the trucks keep running, especially on really cold days.  I am from the smell of grease and the occasional blob of it on my clothes or in my hair.  I am from crawling under and over dozers and loaders with my brother, laughing and pretending we are monkeys when we are supposed to be working.  I am from a part of life that forces you to get your hands dirty. 

I am from achy muscles from an all-day snowshoe.  I am from sweat and fatigue and pressing on, all in order to get the chance to see the view of a lifetime from the top of a mountain. 

I am from big European cities with languages I only partly understand or don’t understand at all.  I am from hours sitting in the kitchen of my Berlin apartment, translating text in order to understand it.  From headaches and sobbing in bathrooms as I struggle to understand or be understood – from smiles and laughter because I can and I am. 

I am from youth groups, church retreats, and “Good News” Wednesdays.  I am from friends who love the Lord.  I am from the confusion that stems when the things you learn at church with those same friends cease to matter when you walk through your own front door; yet, I am from the Grace and Mercy of God, who never gave up on me.  I am from Him.