I AM CARA

Although the construction dust is still flying about my blog, I just have to share this with you right away. One of my very favorite blog authors, Mary, (who will be listed in my links as soon as I get to it) is hosting a writing contest again. I immediately knew I had to participate, and this is my entry for the I AM poem. For the last three months, I have been working on the I AM FROM poem. When I put my perfectionism aside (see below) and finish it up, I will give both poems as gifts to my parents. (I am proud to say that this I AM poem only took me 2 days!)
I know my readership is probably down to 1 (my husband) since I haven't been posting, but if you do happen to stop in, please let me know you were here, and also - would you be so kind to visit Mary's fabulous blog and let her know in her comments that I sent you? She's awarding BOOKS as prizes and your comment could help me win one!!

If you'd like to write your own "I AM....." poem, the template I used can be found HERE.


I AM CARA

I am the long awaited first child born in Kosciusko to a missionary kid turned professor and his student turned professor who’s earliest recollection is the face of my father peeking tearfully through the window of the X-ray room because it was his fault my ankle was crushed in the spokes of the bicycle we were riding together.

I am the child who played Authors and Rook and pretended the crumbly, sparkly shale in the backyard was pixie dust and enabled me, the “maiden in distress,” to fly away from the boys of the neighborhood who were the “evil kidnappers.”
Who loved reading and crafting and all the little bits of nature – nests, snails, tadpoles, stones, and such.
Who stored in my treasure box many lost teeth, the little bits of nature, and a prized gift from a young girl visiting from China – a teeny, hand-woven basket.
Who dreamed of having horses, was crushed to discover a horrible allergy to them, and was surprised and delighted to find I would completely love owning a small flock of sheep.

I am the teenager who spent my idyllic summers splashing about in the creek and visiting my missionary relatives in Brazil.
Who wore skirts and no shoes and loved singing and hated the trumpet.
Who picked armloads of peonies and mulberries from the college and then proudly walked home carrying them in my arms.
Who dreamed of serving in third-world countries and knew I would experience a great loss someday.
I am the young lady who “stole” my mother’s vintage, handmade, red apron, and grammar handbooks and my father’s field guides, poetry books, and dictionary when I left to make my own home and library.

I am the woman who suddenly felt experienced beyond my years at 24 years old while picking flowers to put on the grave of my beautiful, stillborn daughter.
Who loves my Savior, my husband, and my children more than the mere tools of words could ever communicate.
I am the mother who loves nursing and would be heartbroken were I unable to do so and whose moments of perfect bliss come when I can be close enough to smell the sweet, milky breath of my perfectly satiated, yawning babe.
I am the Homeschooling Momma of 8 children – 4 on earth, 3 in Heaven, and 1 in the womb, who has far more ideas for artistic and creative projects that can ever humanly be completed, avoids cleaning the floors around the toilets, and who makes lists to keep track of my lists.

I am the woman who is traditional, yet unconventional, extroverted, but shy, visionary while reflective, intellectually curious, passionate, and complex.
I am the woman who yearns for discipline and routine and then decides to throw a perfectly planned schedule to the wind and do something spontaneous – for better or worse. I am the woman who is learning to not let perfectionism steal the joy of completing or attempting a project. I am the Writer who writes pages upon pages in my head, but never seems to get them down on the keyboard. I am the woman who STILL loves bare feet, creek splashing, and all the little bits of nature, and never feels the need to iron any clothes – only sewing projects.
Who still longs to learn sign language, to play the piano, and to become fluent in another language.
Who still dreams of serving in a third-world country.
I am the person who dreams of dark-skinned, curly haired youngsters – my children across the sea – not of my womb, but of my heart - and adoption and oodles of children and is oh, so grateful for a husband who shares the same dreams and who hopes to fill the remaining spots in our 15 passenger van as quickly as the Lord provides.
I am the Lady yearning to be filled with the fruits of the Spirit and to live a life that reflects the Love of the One who gave His life for me.

edited 2-12-07