West Meets East

I am from. . . a tribute to my childhood and my mom who raised me

I am from. . .

I am from dusty dirt roads in the heat of summer that catch your breath as if on a rollercoaster and I’m from those angelic white fields filled with daisies to be braided into princess tiaras like my Granny taught me.

From the old Maytag washing machine swishing loudly in the kitchen and the smell of fresh linen hanging on the line.

I am from the old yellow farmhouse down at the end of that long driveway with the big oak climbing tree whose limbs reached up, up, up to the sky. . . and whose roots sank deep, deep down cradling still my favorite dog.

From those beautiful wood floors that creaked sometimes and hold a million memories and secrets even still.

I am from the lilac scented spring air, the wild rose bushes that cried out “home” by that old front porch and whose limbs I remember as if they were my own.

I’m from summertime dips in the lake and on a whim“let’s go fishin”, and we did.

I’m from that old red pick up truck that used to haul 6 silly kids in the truck bed bumping around all over those dusty back roads in those lazy days of summer.

I’m from Gramps and Granny and an old church built up north with his own hands.

I’m from popsicle summers and deep freeze winters.

I’m from pulling weeds in the hot summer sun and the “pop” of a jar sealing in the fall.

I’m from “actions speak louder than words”, “give it your best”, and “I love you”, whispered every night.

From “it’s okay to make mistakes, but don’t make the same one twice.” I’m from “respect is earned” but “trust can be broken” . . . I’m from forgiveness is REAL and let bygones be bygones.

I’m from back roads and fresh air and front porch thinking late at night. I’m from rural Minnesota, otherwise knows as God’s Country.

I’m from a little country church and worship music that touches your soul.

From people who love God and believe Him when life is hard.

I’m from popcorn on family movie nights, sloppy joes and deep, deep fried French fries. I’m from bottled coke and sun tea and ice cold lemonade.

I’m from home made bread made from scratch with steamy hot chocolate and sticky marshmallows after a winter snow day.

I’m from hard hours of chopping trees, stacking wood and stocking the woodstove at 2am.

I’m from a broken home that God made whole again.

From the hard work of a woman my children call Nana

Whose labor was in love and who chose to get up every day and do the right things as a mom day after day after day making the days of right living grow into years and years of right living.

I’m from this woman who let me see that a woman’s strength is beautiful and could be woven together with beauty and creativity.

I’m from a woman whom I’m proud to call my mom and whose strength lives in my own heart.

I’m from a God of second chances who has redeemed this life He’s given me and who redeems each and every day.

I’m from a lifetime of memories behind me and a lifetime of memories still before me.

I’m from not wanting to miss a single one!

(inspired by “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon

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