fbpx

I am from…

I am from…
A King who loves me, who knows my name, who will not forget me.
On that Truth statement this is where I am from…
I am from…
A family of three brothers and a divorced mom and dad who swallowed their pride enough to become friends again and forgive one another.
Georgia , although it doesn’t sound like it.
Scorpions hiding in places like shoes, laundry, sleeping bags.
Annual Christmas videos that would always make us laugh.
Letters from Santa left on my dresser, soot footprints on the carpet, and rooftop jingles.
Summers spent on Lake Lanier on my Pepaw’s houseboat.
Weekends and weeknights spent at the ballpark and loving every minute of it.
Allstars, hot July 4th tournaments, jumping into pools with clothes on, and long journeys to no-where’s-vile.
Going to the beach EVERY spring break and EVERY summer.
Being the baby of the family but tough.
Being such a homebody that I refused to go to camp and if I did, I cried the whole time.
Farts on the couch smothered into my face.
Bratty behavior.
The world does not revolve around me.
Milk coming out of my nose from laughing so hard at the table.
“Don’t smile, Kristin. Don’t smile ”
Legos in the Time Out bathroom.
Measuring whose poop was the biggest.
Long road trips to see family.
Being the youngest, which meant spoiled but sometimes forgotten.
Go-carts, kudzu vine swinging, playing in the dirt, jumping on the trampoline till dinner time.
The Wonder Years, Doogie Howser, My So-Called Life, Waynes World, Steve Martin, Seventh Heaven, The Simpsons, SNL
Good music drilled into me most of my life…from Eagles, Beastie Boys, Billy Joel, Led Zeppelin, Grateful Dead, Phish…really anything that my brothers approved of.
Dating relationships that were much too serious for my own good.
Going out to eat was the best way to connect with family.
Assertiveness being taught but never caught on.
Quiet reserve and wanting to help those in trouble.
Nicknames such as Prissy Krissy, Krispot, Tina Belle, Granola Girl, Fields, Hippie Chick, Chicken, Lil’ Pooter.
The girl that we can never remember her name.
A dad who stepped it up in middle school to be there for me.
A mom who showed me what faith in Jesus was really all about.
A mom who was/is my best friend.
Psalm 139.
A Christian science church to Methodist church to shunned to North Point Community Church.
Journals, hot tea, and my bible early in the morning.
A mentor who got me through high school without royally screwing up.
Giggles.
College on the beach.
Surfing the Atlantic.
College by the mountains.
Hiking the Rockies.
Getting over my homebody-ness and stayed put in Colorado while the whole family was on the east coast.
Lust at first sight.
Young Life, Starbuck’s, YMCA.
Mountain top realizations and Oceanside epiphanies.
A Passionate dating relationship with my hubby.
An Eventful marriage.
Always wear some cute undies.
Marriage counseling and help.
A passion for purity within a marriage.
Prayer.
Cancer. But still my dad.
Beth Moore, Chuck Swindoll, Andy Stanley, Jillian Michaels, Ellen Degenerous.
Two natural childbirths- one proudly at home and one at the hospital.
Bluegrass on a sunny day.
Sunshine.
Homemade Ravioli’s at Christmas time, handmade thoughtful family gifts, and tear filled Christmas Eves.
Saturday College football.
A strong community of friends who know the personal struggles in my life.
A blessed life.
To the stars. To the moon.
“Mommy, you are my best friends.”
“No, I can do it.”
Impatience.
Footy pj’s and popcorn movie night.
A family of mom friends who teach me to be proud of who I am as a mom.
A longing to adopt or get up and go to Africa and be with refugees.
Fear of unknown, unacceptance, and forgotten.
Fear of girlie emotions, betrayal , and losing composure.
People pleasing and wanting EVERYONE to like me.
The peacefulness before the light of day.
A cup of coffee with lots of hazelnut cream.
Facebook status’, texting, blogging, Pandora, 105.5, NPR, 100.7
And that is where I am from though much more could be said.

One response to “I am from…”

  1. good stuff.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: