I’m an original. I love that about myself.
It’s possible that someone has the same name and initials as I do. But, I wasn’t named after anyone. When my parents came up with my name, they had no ideal in mind. Just me.
It’s important to me. Because I’ve had people assume many things about me based on my height or my upbringing or my preferences.
Sometimes they are right. Those are the people who choose to know me and know me well. They range from my college roommates to my literary book club to my coffee mates to the local baristas that make my favorite coffee every day. They include my husband who told me just today he loves the crazy that I am. Being understood by them is like the enduring hug of my three boys–the ones they give to me and to each other.
Occasionally someone reads me wrong. That’s a choice, too. And it’s a bad one. Because the original intent of my life story is meant, above all, to be readable. If something has been lost in the translation, why not ask? It might be amazing what is discovered about this original article.
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.