I Am From

I am from cornfields stretching green toward the end of earth;
watching Daddy hatch speckled brown eggs into living yellow peeps
and a Mama who could crack a chicken-thieving gopher between the eyes.

I am from a big small town
with Friday night football
and state championship basketball dreams that fall just short.

I am from padded pews and basement youth groups, old hymns and camp songs;
unworthy and afraid of a God of judgment, rules and thou shalt nots
until He met me in that dark insecurity with the blazing light of beloved.

I am from feeling just outside the inside
longing for ease of carefree laughter in the midst of admiring crowd;
finding peace in a quiet room of books, prayers, intimate conversation.

I am from Narnia and Middle Earth;
Terabithia and Maycomb, Alabama, and the road to Damascus;
from words that weave hope, bring truth.

I am from high school sweethearts growing up together
toward stained glass pronouncements of to love and to cherish;
twenty years grateful for his integrity, laughter, strength melding into me.

I am from Mom, what's for dinner, I need a ride, where's my homework,
hurry, we're going to be late and I don't wanna go and why do we hafta leave so early.
From hugs in shades of skin intertwined into hearts that beat forever love.

Kimberly Brubaker Bradley's beautiful "I Am From" blog linked me to the South African Heritage Day Synchroblog from SheLoves. Which was actually on Tuesday but I am from a heritage of promptness hijacked by the bossiness of too busy.