Your Roots Are Showing

I picked up a couple of old issues of Romantic Homes Magazine the other day when I was out thrifting with my daughter. I used to love that publication. It was full of all things frilly and pastel; it was total eye candy for me back in the day. The issues I came across recently however, reminded me of why I quit buying the magazine in the first place. These reflected a shift in focus for the magazine. They had morphed into the more sophisticated, neutral-filled pages which mirrored so many other volumes of the time.

They had lost their authenticity for me. Granted, times and tastes change, and the decorating world needs to jump on the current bandwagon or be left behind, but for those of us who had loved them for their unashamedly, unapologetically, pink, ruffle-plastered pages... the shift was no longer worth the money.

Strangely enough, this silly little discovery got me thinking about what makes each of us authentically who we are. How did we end up in this place, loving the things we do... doing the things we love? What shaped us from point "A" at birth to the here and now?

I think we're all a conglomerate, if you will, of all the experiences, of all the life events, both wonderful and not so wonderful that have had an impact on our growth and development. Some things we've been exposed to have "stuck." They have become a part of us. Other things we've experienced have been left by the wayside, discarded either intentionally or accidentally. I could have ended up looking very different from the me I am today, so why am I the "me" I am?

I love little, old houses. I'm fascinated by all kinds of antique things, actually. Why?

If given a choice of where to eat out for a special occasion, I will never choose steak. It's cheese enchiladas from Blanco Cafe for the win! Why?

I'm a beach loving girl through and through. Why?

Why do I so enjoy drives out in the hill country and resting my view over wide, open spaces more than pretty much anything else we do for fun?

It's not much of a mystery when you really think about it. All these things stem from experiences that have come my way, ones that I have chosen to keep. These were not the only places I've lived, dined, vacationed, or driven; but these are the things that remain after others have been whittled away.

These are the things that have made me. These are the things that have shaped me. These are the things that are inherently part of me now.

I suppose my love of small houses came from visiting my grandparents' homes. They both lived in little two-bedroom, one bath houses. Come to think of it, my Granny Ruth's sisters (Aunt Bennen and Aunt Blanche) also lived in small two-bedroom houses. Though diminutive in size, they were all filled with a sense of welcoming and warmth. You could never enter any one of those homes without an offer of something to eat or a glass of sweet tea.

I loved getting to go with Granny Ruth to visit the "sisters" in Lockhart and Prairie Lea. Time almost stood still there. It matched the slow, southern drawl of their speech... unhurried, always time to "sit for a spell" and visit. Sometimes we'd stay over to Sunday, and I'd attend services with them at the Baptist church down the street. I have vivid memories of sitting stiffly in the straight-backed pews, singing along to hymns like "The Little Brown Church in the Vale" and "I come to the Garden Alone" as light streamed through the pale, stained glass windows. I still love a good, old Gospel hymn.

I love Mexican food. I was born here in San Antonio where I think we happen to have the. most. authentic. Mexican food in Texas, and I'm proud of it! Eating at Blanco Cafe is more than a tradition. It is wrapped up part and parcel with so many wonderful memories of eating there with my parents, going on a date with Tom there early in our courtship, of eating there with our own little family through the years. Admittedly, it's great Mexican food, but the times associated with it make it all the more precious, and all the more a part of what makes me, me.

As for the beach, well, growing up we didn't take many long vacations. Our vacations typically consisited of running down to the coast for a couple of days. We would stay in some little beach court not far off the water, and preparations were kept to a minimum. All we needed to get out the door was a bathing suit, a towel, some sandwich fixings, and drinks in a cooler. Not much prep, not much fuss, but those days were glorious to me. I never felt like I had missed out an any fancy vacations. I loved the coast; the smell of it, the warmth of the sand on my feet, the salt air in my face, and the true wonders of what it did for my wavy hair!

I enjoy some camping on occasion. I enjoy the river, and canoeing. I enjoy hikes that take me above the tree line for those breath-taking views, but more than any of those things, I love the Gulf. You can think there. You can just... be... there. You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but sit and watch the moon rise over the water and be amazed.

I am not a fancy person. I have simple tastes and simple desires. I love a drive out in the country in Tom's Jeep, seeing old weathered fences and fields full of hay. Perhaps it was those visits to my Great Aunts'. Perhaps it was walking along those dirt roads where horses grazed lazily and signs of "Fresh Eggs for Sale" dotted the landscape. Perhaps. I don't know really. All I know is that those things made an indelible mark on me somehow.

The older I get, the more those things continue to be refined. The image being whittled becomes sharper... clearer. The things of true value are what becomes most valuable... my relationship with the God who made me, with the Savior who redeemed me, and with the family and friends who love me. The rest becomes superfluous, extra baggage weighing me down. There is great freedom and great enjoyment in becoming the most authentic version of oneself, the emerging of who God always envisioned and prepared us to be.

I am thankful for the journey that brought me here. I am grateful for the backstory... for my roots... and for all the dear, wonderful people that have influenced my life and my faith. I would not be who I am today without them. I suppose that's all part of God's plan... to paint our portraits with the people, places, and things that give color, depth, and meaning to our lives... and help us to become our most beautifully authentic selves.