I'm from...

I'm from my dad's Mickey Mouse pancakes. His baking powder biscuits. Watching him cut up a chicken for my mom to cook. Hearing eggs called "cackleberries," and milk called "moo juice."

I'm from celebrating our close birthdays with my grandma. Two days apart. Sweet times.

I'm from sharing a bedroom with my brother when I was little. Living across the street from a small college campus, where we explored, pushed a stroller, and rode bikes. Attending campus worship.

I'm from moving twice during elementary school. New towns, schools, churches, friends. I'm from finding a Christian girl in my 5th grade homeroom class, who had also just moved, and whose name rhymed with my own. Blessed to have her as one of my oldest friends.

I'm from the plains. Wide open skies. The most spectacular watercolor sunsets. Rolling hills. The feeling of breathing deep in the open air.

I'm from a town with only one stoplight. I'm from it being a big deal with we got a McDonald's. I'm from a graduating class of 100, in a town populated by 4000 people. The Tulip Festival. Octoberfest. The Dutch Mill, the Independence Day Parade. Town pride.

I'm from comfort food. Meatloaf, casseroles. Potato-cheese soup. I'm from regular desserts. Whoopie pies. Chocolate cake. Butterscotch brownies, No-Bake Cookies in the summertime. Too many cookies to name, really.

I'm from the choir. Sixth grade. Junior High. High School. College. Church. I'm from the drama department. Willingly staying in the chorus. Loving the excitement of performing without the responsibility of a speaking part.

I'm from playing the recorder, the piano, and the trumpet...for a while, anyway.

I'm from keeping two guinea pigs. A cocker spaniel. Two cats. But rarely more than one kind of animal at a time.

I'm from playing with dolls. Generic, Cabbage Patch, Barbie. Birthday parties with my friend for a "baby's" birthday, complete with cupcakes. Writing novellas to chronicle the happenings in my Barbie-people's lives. Intricate storylines.

I'm from giving my heart to the Lord after hearing Luis Palau speak at a nearby convention. Having waited to commit until I knew it to be my own faith, I went down for the altar call. Saved at 13.

I'm from keeping diaries. Hearbreaks, hopes. Happy times, times of bitter loneliness. Circles dotting the "i"s and flourishes on the "y" of my name. Thrills, growing pains.

I'm from having God's hand on my life, whether I knew He was there or not.