Where I'm From

"Tell me some of our family traditions," came the text.  Our girl was working on a secret project -- one prompted by her English teacher, and scorned by her other classmates.  But one that our girl took to.  After reading the poem "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon, the class was given a template in order to compose their own poem with similar ideas.

This is what our girl wrote, and presented to us on Christmas Day:

I am from the rocker,

from Colgate toothpaste and Giant Eagle peanut butter.

I am from the mint green house,

to the creamy white house.

I am from the black raspberry bush,

the hydrangea (pretty, pink, vibrant.)

I'm from the sparkling grape juice on new years and the stubbornness.

From Sally and Kevin.

I'm from hard workers and loving ones.

From "we love you and we will always love you."

I'm from The Chapel -- where I've grown up.

I'm from Akron, Ohio and German descent,

From coffee cake and pretzels.

From the breaking of my ankle by playing foursquare,

the breaking of my brother's wrist by capture the flag.

In our living room are pictures.

Pictures from years past and years present.

I am from these moments -- 

Snapped before I budded and after --

Leaf-fall from the family tree.

As you can imagine, my thanks was through sobs.  Sobs of thankfulness that our girl knows exactly who she is, and where she's come from.  She holds miles of good memories, as well as ones that perhaps aren't so good -- but nevertheless, have formed her.

She is a work in progress -- with many more memories to come.

Ephesians 2:10

"For we are God's workmanship..."