A few weeks ago, I came across delightful poems of the "Where I'm From" theme on Holy Experience and A Circle of Quiet. The blog entries included links to a template devised from Georgia Ella Lyons' original poem Where I'm From.
Looking like too much fun to pass up, I printed out ideas and got to work. As I was working, the boys became curious and asked what I was doing…not wanting to be left out, they wrote their own poems! You can read C.J.'s here, and Micah's here. I roped my sis in (she's a high school English teacher, so it didn't take much to talk her into participating!) and she and I printed out our poems for our dad for Father's Day.
I hope you'll take a little time to write your own "Where I'm From" poem. It is relatively painless endeavor 🙂 You may be surprised at what stands out to you from your history and hopefully you'll see God's fingerprints on your life. (Reading Where I'm From prose all over the net for the past few days, I have been struck by how the Lord has used the negative and positive childhood experiences of many so that "all things work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.")
And, if you enter the contest over at Joy in the Morning, you just may win yourself a pretty little bracelet!
Here's my offering:
I am from orange polyester plaid dresses and roller skates, from a yellow Toyota Corolla and delicious homemade cinnamon rolls.
I am from many houses, yet one home.
I am from the sweet smell of peach trees, from heavy canopies drooping with ruby red cherries, from fragrant lemon blossoms, from dad's-favorite-color-green rice fields as far as the eye can see, and from playing tag with cow pies.
I am from Davis stock: big noses, stubborn streaks, disdain for pretentiousness. From Grandma Sissy's love of soft pink and the sweet smell of Chantilly.
I am from the Thompsons: love for church and scripture, ability to make everything from scratch, Reader's Digest, PBS, Friend of Israel.
I am from the bottomless well of opinions, with logical arguments to back them each up.
I am from "I see said the blind man" and "You make a better door than a window."
I am from Good News Clubs in my backyard, Mr. Magic's garage performances, from a youth ministry house of volleyball and ping-pong. I am from a kitchen where a mother waited to meet my friends and introduce them to Jesus.
I am from a chaplain of the Union Rescue Mission, from playing chess with homeless men and sharing Thanksgivings with smelly strangers.
I'm from ancestors from almost every square foot of Europe, from Arkansas and Oregon, from Great Depression survivors, from nightly bowls of chocolate chip ice cream and warm tortillas filled with melted butter.
From the man who won over a woman by eating catsup on his pumpkin pie, and the woman who won a man to Christ by "chewing up atheists and spitting them out Christian."
I am from Grandma T's Hallway of Fame and boxes full of black and white history stuffed into G.G.'s red-carpeted closet.