For Christmas, my mom gave me Amy Grant's book Mosaic, Pieces of My Life So Far. I fully expected it to be a memoir in the traditional sense and was really excited about reading all about her life. Instead, it's a collection of thoughts and reflections- snipits if you will- of her experiences. Basically, it's a published and bound blog.
This morning as I read more about her family, I started thinking about what my book, similarly composed, would look like. Pieces of my life so far.
I would tell stories of my childhood... of being a Daddy's girl; taking walks with my nanny and picking daisies; loving the way my Mom looked and smelled before she went on a date with my Daddy.
I would tell of that horrible road into adolesence... where my best friends were only my best friends if it felt right; of my Daddy moving out and that first day coming home from school to find all of his things gone... and how I first noticed the vacant spot on the counter where the coffee pot had been; of finding my first real boyfriend who I would fall for in middle school and continue to fall for throughout the years into college; of finding my first love and dreaming of a life together where I would be a preacher's wife... until a woman named Donna asked me why I didn't just want to be the preacher; and of taking my role in high school very, very seriously.
I would tell stories of years in Blue Heaven with friends who showed me what friendship was like when you chose to be friends rather than just being thrown together; of wondering if I would ever find love again; of doubting my intellect and my worth as I struggled to graduate (as discussed in great length below); and of learning to appreciate the "random" places I ended up only to find out God had put me there.
I would talk fondly of deciding it was okay to date a nerd who drove a hand-me-down mini-van and how getting over myself would allow me to fall in love with the man I would marry; of living and laughing with girls in that little farm house with a cute white dog; of developing my ministry in a church I love so much and the people that came with it; of having one of the best summers of my life only to watch it fall apart when friendships were shaken by girlfriends with unnecessary jealously or uncertain relationships after secrets were shared; then sobbing when my mini-van nerd picked me up to move me away...
I would grow up through the pages of the Land of Black and Gold where my heart would hurt unmeasurable hurt as lost and longed for babies were not met; meeting a woman in Panera who would teach me how to be a mom and how to be a bold friend; watching patterns of friendships ebb and flow as girls changed their phases of life; and how my heart became whole when I first saw that little girl with blonde hair whose skin was purple on that night in October.
My stories wouldn't appeal to everyone. In fact, writing them would be their worth... a chance for me to process through the people and events who have made me who I am. But as I read Amy Grant's book, I'm thankful for a glance into her life. Whether or not you are thankful for being able to glance into mine, I am thankful you chose to.