Where are you from?

I was prompted to write this after stumbling upon a blog called "Fragments from Floyd." Fred, the writer of the blog, posted a poem by George Ella Lyons called "Where I'm From." He broke down the poem into an outline, and the format he provided for me to write my own poem was irresistable.

The information about the poem and the outline can be found on his blog at http://www.fragmentsfromfloyd.com/archives/2003_11.html

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I am from swing sets, from Jif Peanut Butter and suitcases of Nancy Drew mysteries.

I am from the two storied, grey bricked home built just for us in a new neighborhood where the hammering of nails and the grit of sawdust filled our street for years.

I am from earthworms and raccoon eyes, the crape myrtle tree in my Mamaw and Papaw’s backyard.

I am from reading “Twas the night before Christmas” every Christmas Eve and strong bonds, from Diane and Richard and David, from Rogers and Gosnays.

I am from rushed Friday nights before the ball game, little league dugouts and the cheering section at my brothers’ and sister’s events.

From beauty and ashes.

I am from the imagination of God, knit together in my mother’s womb, prepared for such a time as this, to mirror His love back into the world.

I’m from Houston, Texas, apple dumplings and peanut butter fudge.

From the kind and compassionate act of a Texas Ranger who rescued a tortured man from certain death, later the father of two men, and the grandfather of my ancestors. What once was captive is now free.

I am from a family who likes to mark their fish, from music and art and dance, from game nights and nachos and weeks of preparing for Christmas Eve skits, from ninja turtle stepdads and posters of boys on the walls, from creating a world where little sisters, afraid of the dark, can find comfort and rest, from film scores and burger joint churches and metal garbage can horses, a tapestry of love knit together by the very Hand of God.