I am…
I am a forty-something single woman living in the corn fields of Illinois. Actually, I live in a perfectly pleasant little community near Peoria…but there is a corn field across the street, so I wasn’t exaggerating too much.
My life is just as I always hoped. I have a good and getting better career, thoughtful and supportive friends, and a family who loves me (even if I did move ‘too far away’ and have no intention of giving birth to little heirs). I spend my leisure time volunteering with a local non-profit organization and love to read, travel, and spend time with the people who matter. I’m still looking for that one special guy but the search has led me to many other really nice guys (and a few rather entertaining blog entries) so I just have to believe that all this is playing out as it should.
I blog for many of the same reasons others do. I like the creative process of capturing my thoughts, experiences and revelations and sharing them with the online world at large. Every now and then you strike a chord with someone and you get to experience a human connection. And therein lies the paradox…that within this impersonal, solitary activity we have the opportunity and power to connect with other human beings.
That, alone, is worthy of reflection.
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I am from…
I am from wood-paneled station wagons, Ivory soap, and family dinners with Walter Cronkite in the background. I am from the white house on the large corner lot with the gabled roof and the front porch facing the village park, filled with trees and wooden play equipment sitting on pea-sized gravel.
I am from the house with two pines and two maples in the front yard and apple trees, black raspberry vines and rose bushes in the back. I am from the neighborhood with crocuses in the spring, vine-ripened tomatoes in the summer, burnt orange leaves in the fall and icicles hanging from garage eaves in the winter.
I am from waking early and working hard, the German and the Dutch, hearty food, hearty laughs, and hearty hugs. I am from large families, kids’ tables at holidays, and love so strong that sometimes you feel you can’t breathe.
I am from the “help your sister”, “share what you have”, and “don’t make me stop this car” method of parenting. From the “give your all”, “play fair”, and “make me proud” way of thinking.
I am from years of weekly Sunday school, Wednesday night Bible studies, and summers of Vacation Bible School. I am from a small congregation in a close-knit community and people who still send me cards for my birthday and Christmas. I am from people who showed me that God is Love, but even more importantly sometimes, Forgiveness.
I am from tiny towns sprinkled in corn fields and a school district that included three different communities and yet, a graduating class that still had less than 30 people in it. I am from family reunions in the shelter house, potluck dinners in the church basement, and summer block parties in the neighbor’s back yard. I am from lemonade in the summer, hot chocolate in the winter, and iced tea all year ’round.
I am from the Grandmother who made everything look effortless, from raising eight children to baking flaky pie crust to making grass stains disappear from the knees of denim jeans. And I am also from the other Grandmother who loved big, clunky jewelry, sequined clothing, and bright red fingernails. I am from parents who worked 70 hours a week outside the home and yet were always there if we needed them. I am from the era of kids pitching in, doing chores, and not expecting an allowance for doing their part.
I am from large, heavy photo albums of baby pictures and first days of school, shoe boxes overflowing with recipes scribbled on napkins and the backs of envelopes, and a rubber band circling a stack of coupons clipped from the Sunday newspaper. I am from the big white family Bible sitting on my mother’s hope chest, filled with pressed flowers, baby announcements, and locks of hair.
I am from these things and yet I am not these things. They exist now only in memories and Polaroid snapshots. I am stronger from their lessons, influenced by their example, and driven to honor them. I am – because of them.
