To know who it is that I am, to know where it is that I come from. The longing of the human heart. So we search, “Mommy, where did I come from? Dad, why was it you chose to have me?” We ask Grandma about those of us who arrived before us, trying to find the meaning. Trying in our own way, to understand the generation before us is to find the meaning for the present.
We search out our “roots” to know the secrets of our connection with the generations that preceded us, and thus, assume our place with the teeming multitudes that surround us on the planet. Sharing in the continuity of all who live on this earth.
For to be “rooted” to something, is in simplicity, to have origin. It is absurd to believe that life begins at birth. Most of us do believe that, we are just part of the grand scheme of things. Truly the pattern was established eons of time, long ago, we were just thrust into the process. A great many folks think that very way today.
So … Who am I?
I am the son. The genetic mess brought into this very imperfect world early one morning in the fall of forty-seven (47). Bursting upon the scene with my fists clenched tightly and squalling to beat the band. My arrival was boisterous I imagine. When my appointed time to leave this world arrives, it will more than likely be a somber affair, quiet and reserved. I will leave this world with my palms outstretched, having received my fair share of life’s rewards.
I am the War Baby … The First Born.
A “Baby Boomer” in the terms of modern society. Born into a generation that was “supposed to” to live a entire life span without strife, a time of great prosperity, happiness. A time of peace without war, which sadly, did not happen.
I am the tree, that started from the seed. I am the one who put the many wrinkles on my father’s forehead, the touch of gray to my mother’s temple. I am the one who introduced my sister to the time honored tradition of “Big Brothers.”
I am or was supposed to be, the hope of my generation. Who was molded, shaped and formed with the ideals of decency, morality, taught to function in the role of a mature human being. Rock solid with a hard-core belief system in place and deep inner convictions. I was being shaped, polished, and formed by all those surrounding me, long before I even consciously wondered, “Who Am I?”
So maybe when you sit and ask yourself, “Who Am I?” You are perhaps, just waxing a tad bit nostalgic? A wistful exercise in sentiment. Looking for some key to illumination of the present. With your self-evaluation of the past, inviting an invitation to self-examination.
Often I look to my highest source, for my personal answer. Through Him, I am guided to make choices for my good. One of the great things about a faith in a Living God, you never have to spend a lot of time wondering “Who you are, where you came from?”All you have to do is believe. Knowing in your heart that you are nothing without Jesus, even relieves you of the burden of wondering ….. “Where is it I am going?”
No longer having to worry about it, my inner thoughts on the subject are well defined. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus. I am his workmanship. He made me a new creation. Simple. Logical. Makes sense to me. Unlike a lot of folks in this day and age, who search for the truth, Almighty God in his wisdom, has told me who it is that I am, and where it is that I came from.
I am the First Born, created in the image of my Creator. I am the Son, who was born again, of water and the Spirit.
Another member of the Family of God.
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