by Jennifer Mitchell I believe in being the person God created me to be, despite criticism.
My mom used to call me her little free spirit, and most days my brother refers to me as Tree Hugger. A lot of my friends joke about me being a hippie--not a Woodstock hippie, but still a hippie in my own way. No I don't smoke pot. Yes, I shower, but not necessarily everyday.
It's just that I have this passionate desire to live a nontraditional lifestyle. The desire and the way I choose to live my life are often misunderstood by others. For example, I'd be content to wake up tomorrow morning in a hut at the foot of a mountain wearing the same clothes from last week. My future plans include living in a third world country. I go through stages where I suddenly want to throw out everything in my closet and become a minimalist. My fiance and I hope to quit our jobs to thru hike the Appalachian Trail. You could say I'm different.
I wasn't always this way. True, I've always been different, but I wasn't as open to expressing it. I wasn't always as bold in standing up for myself perhaps. Though I was heading that direction in college, one unfortunate tragedy shook me enough to appreciate the person I was becoming and embrace her.
Standing at my mother's grave, the words to "Amazing Grace" whipping around my black dress with the wind, I never could have imagined the changes to come. I was 19 at the time, and losing my mother's support and protection made me realize how different some of my beliefs and actions were from those in my family and others close to me. Where some were baffled or stunned at my actions, Mom would have just sighed and said, "She's my free spirit." Like when I told a friend about thru hiking the AT--her jaw dropped and she said, "You want to walk from Georgia to Maine?" My mom might have thought quitting a job to hike was crazy, but she would have understood it fit with who I am.
Mom was the glue. She understood me, and I now see how she was a mediator, explaining my oddities to others as best she could. When she passed, the glue was gone and it became very difficult to stick to my family.
The next year was rough, but I began to realize how much I liked being different from the rest of them. Mom had seen the person God created me to be, and without her constant encouragement, it just took me a little longer to see it, too. Where others would say, "She dances to the beat of a different drum," I began to believe I was simply dancing to the beat of the drum God gave me.
Sure, my brother and father still think I'm strange, and occasionally my brother cracks jokes about adoption. The values I've come to hold dear send me walking down different paths from most, but I learned through my mother's death that I can't be anyone else. I was created with a distinct personality and plan in mind, and I now know I can't let anyone's criticism--even family--hinder where I choose to go.
It's just that I have this passionate desire to live a nontraditional lifestyle. The desire and the way I choose to live my life are often misunderstood by others. For example, I'd be content to wake up tomorrow morning in a hut at the foot of a mountain wearing the same clothes from last week. My future plans include living in a third world country. I go through stages where I suddenly want to throw out everything in my closet and become a minimalist. My fiance and I hope to quit our jobs to thru hike the Appalachian Trail. You could say I'm different.
I wasn't always this way. True, I've always been different, but I wasn't as open to expressing it. I wasn't always as bold in standing up for myself perhaps. Though I was heading that direction in college, one unfortunate tragedy shook me enough to appreciate the person I was becoming and embrace her.
Standing at my mother's grave, the words to "Amazing Grace" whipping around my black dress with the wind, I never could have imagined the changes to come. I was 19 at the time, and losing my mother's support and protection made me realize how different some of my beliefs and actions were from those in my family and others close to me. Where some were baffled or stunned at my actions, Mom would have just sighed and said, "She's my free spirit." Like when I told a friend about thru hiking the AT--her jaw dropped and she said, "You want to walk from Georgia to Maine?" My mom might have thought quitting a job to hike was crazy, but she would have understood it fit with who I am.
Mom was the glue. She understood me, and I now see how she was a mediator, explaining my oddities to others as best she could. When she passed, the glue was gone and it became very difficult to stick to my family.
The next year was rough, but I began to realize how much I liked being different from the rest of them. Mom had seen the person God created me to be, and without her constant encouragement, it just took me a little longer to see it, too. Where others would say, "She dances to the beat of a different drum," I began to believe I was simply dancing to the beat of the drum God gave me.
Sure, my brother and father still think I'm strange, and occasionally my brother cracks jokes about adoption. The values I've come to hold dear send me walking down different paths from most, but I learned through my mother's death that I can't be anyone else. I was created with a distinct personality and plan in mind, and I now know I can't let anyone's criticism--even family--hinder where I choose to go.
1 comment:
This is very touching. A gentle tribute to your mother and your own free spirited personality.
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