I recently read a blog post from Beth Woolsey in which her son wrote a “Where I’m From” poem for school and then feeling inspired, she wrote one. As someone who loves to write, I was excited by the idea and decided to do it for myself. When I thought back especially on my childhood, all I could think of were wonderful, joyful feelings. How blessed to remember my life in that way! (And as Beth did, I strayed a bit from the template.)
Where I’m From
I am from smiles and joy, from Sonic ice and eating out, Big Red and back rubs.
I am from warmth and laughter, from hospitality and manners, from the genuine.
I am from the pine trees and the lake, the small towns and curvy, winding roads, from mosquitoes big enough to carry you and storms that will scare you.
I am from so many stories and lots of loud talking, from McGraw and Myers and Rogers, from teachers and preachers who seem to know everyone.
I am from thoughtfulness and cards full of underlined words and handwritten letters, bending over backwards, from hosting and cooking and sharing.
From “Jesus Loves Me” and “You are loved” and prophetic words.
I am from church every Sunday, mission trips, and youth trips, from true salvation and never-ceasing prayers and walking among giants.
I’m from the south, first from the flat, wooded places and now the hills and mountains. From both the neighborhoods and the country.
From the Billy letters, the peanut brittle, the barbecued meat, the man who cannot slow down, and the prayers of a righteous woman.
I am from feeling loved and valued, from hectic and loud but feeling total bliss in the chaos, from deep, overwhelming peace in the soul.