Where I'm From
I am from spiral-bound notebooks, from Hershey’s hot chocolate and curling up in a cozy chair with a book.
I am from the crisp mornings, the small house, waking up with the windows open and the smell of fall in the air.
I am from the oak trees, the wildflowers.
I am from Sunday family dinners after church and naturally curly hair, from Benny and Joyce and Rosie.
I am from the worrying too much and working hard at everything I do because it’s the right thing to do.
From “You’ll find someone who loves you because of your sweet personality,” (from a friend’s mom…because obviously she didn’t think I was pretty enough) and “One day you’ll be a great mom because you’ll learn from their mistakes,” because my parents didn’t raise me – my grandparents did.
I am from grace and salvation and love so amazing, saved by grace, loved by my Heavenly Father, made complete only in Him.
I'm from Arkansas from 200 years back, before Arkansas even became a state, and from Ireland and Scotland and England and the Cherokee nation before that, from fried chicken and Mississippi mud cake.
From the baseball games with my dad and grandpa, the hot summer sun, and the cheers from my dad as Nolan Ryan struck another one out.
From curling up in our chilly house with my space heater in my room, roasting marshmallows on a fork while reading books and writing stories and drawing.
From walking country roads and riding bikes on gravel and grass and learning to drive in my grandpa's beat-up pickup.
From walking to the barn as the sun came up to ride my horse, then groom and feed her before breakfast.
I am from sticky albums and boxes of pictures and cedar chests, from the little girl who dreamed big dreams and prayed big prayers and still stands amazed that God did so much more than she ever dreamed of, whose heart is full and happy.