Represent

 

In the past I have represented lots of families, organizations, people, and groups.

I represented the growing Turany family. I represented a good student at my grade school. I represented my immediate Wisconsin family moving west – snowbirds taking a permanent home in the desert. I represented the people group called “tomboys,” catching lizards and snakes, making mud and clay models of Indian ruins in my backyard, running around the neighborhood, biking around the neighborhood, searching for treasure in the alley, getting yelled at by the lady on the corner because she thought I was in her garden (which I wasn’t, I was just admiring her flowers), playing with trucks and blocks.

I represented the North High Mustang Band. I represented the North High Mustang Madrigals. I represented the National Honor Society and the Key Club. I represented the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. I represented the Turany family in Phoenix and all the things that went with that.

I represented teens that loved classical music. I represented lost girls wandering the neighborhood, wondering what I would do when I grew up. I represented all the children that missed their grandmothers. I represented all young ladies that dressed right, acted right, smelled good, held themselves correctly, talked with good grammar (for which I was made fun of), hung out with the smart kids and had a bright future.

But deep inside I was not any of those things. I didn’t know what I was. The things I wanted were frowned upon, but the frown wasn’t explained. The things I was interested in were filtered through the words of my mother, so I began to keep quiet. She made my important thought her idea and washed it clean of my identity.

In college I steered clear of representing anything, the class I was in, the school I attended, the profession I was supposedly studying for, the mind set of the church I attended, the attitude I was supposed to have … all of it.

I had learned to hide myself.

After a few jobs and marriage, the children came and I was happy to NOT represent motherhood as portrayed by my relatives, my local society, my new family name, or my city. I didn’t want to represent anything. I just wanted to live my life in peace and quiet doing what I thought best for my family, my children, my husband. To represent anything I saw would have been stressful for my husband, unrealistic for my children and impossible for me to keep up with.

So I became comfortable in my own skin, insulting and disappointing people at an incredible rate and happily teaching my children and helping my husband as I was able.

Now, I am still a mother and a grandmother, but not the one you’re thinking of.

I’m a writer, but not the one you think I might be.

I’m a Christian and a Jesus freak, but not like you’ve met.

I enjoy all sorts of things like piano playing, quilting, gardening, crocheting, crafting, traveling, reading, planning and organizing, card sending, giving away things and giving to organizations, attending church and being involved (but not the way you think), praying for everything and everybody that pops into my head, doing Bible study and listening to messages, walking, running, picking up toads, talking to cats and birds and snakes and spiders (letting them know I appreciate them, there's plenty of room for them in my world and I’m not going to hurt them), stretching myself in new ways, earning money, doing bills, cleaning house, canning, preserving, writing a story, helping my children and my grandchildren, watching a movie once in a while, buying good food, buying fast food, spending too much money and saving as much as I can, being joyfully inconsistent …

… and shutting off the negative, judgmental, shaming voices of my past.

 

This was cleansing for me. I hope you were not offended. If you were, perhaps you need some time alone with yourself to understand why.

 

God Bless and join the fun!