Everyone is a hundred different things, but in other people’s eyes, we usually only get to be one of them. — Frederick Backman
What is there to say about me? I’ve lived an entire lifetime already, and I’m still becoming.
I’m a daughter, a sister, married to my best friend, a mother, a friend, a co-worker, a heretic, a feminist, a library fanatic, a survivor, a reader, a writer, a dreamer, a vegetarian, obnoxious about my dog and my kids, an introvert, a follower of Jesus, a church drop-out, a humanitarian, an equality advocate, friend to the marginalized, prone to swearing, afraid of my own voice.
I have been a patient, a student, a teacher, a homeschooler, a pastor’s wife, bankrupt, burned-out, exhausted, an agnostic, an evangelical, certain about so many things, baptized in the river, confused about so many things I was once certain of, kicked out of the church – more than once, angry, bitter, ashamed, to therapy, healed, wounded, afraid, prone to wonder, humbled by Love.
I’ve never smoked, fit into boxes, liked rules, been able to keep my mouth shut, not questioned authority, stopped asking why, wanted a fancy house, stopped missing my dad, liked celery, enjoyed large parties, felt like I quite fit in anywhere unless I am with my best friend.
I believe in love, peace, gratitude, the innate goodness of mankind, grace, joy, humility, the power of presence, the comfort of a good dog, the healing power of the ocean, the strength to start again.
I don’t claim to be an expert in anything, but after forty-five years, I’ve seen a few things, formed a few thoughts, and been quiet and afraid for far too long.
This is my story. This is my song.
You are welcome to rest here awhile.