A Stranger in My Parent's House

“I am my mother’s daughter.”

This is the statement that I would most likely use when asked to describe myself. I took joy in always being referred collectively with my family. In being known by my last, and not my first, name. I naturally adopted my family’s principles and their characteristics. Their mannerisms are slowly starting to show on my face. But instead of smiling slightly while connecting the dots…I frown. It isn’t that my family is extraordinarily dysfunctional or that I would openly deny my blood-laced ties to them….but…

…I am not a little girl anymore. Looking into the mirror I see my mother’s high cheeks and nose; my father’s full lips and chin…and the eyes of a pleasant stranger... Who is this woman?

Currently, I am growing fonder of the idea of a life out on my own. Establishing a peace of mind that is significantly unique. Distinct and God-given directly to me. My parents throw themselves at me when I am home from school during vacation, but are rarely interested in the evolving young woman who meets them at the door.

“I know you too well, girl.” My mother says. Our constant arguments should only reveal to her how limited her knowledge of me is…She knows me. She made me. She loves me. But…she does not know me.

Granted, there are ways about me that are central, and will not change drastically. But, everyday that I spend with myself is a day that I learn something new. I have interests and pursuits that have recently been awakened that she doesn’t understand.

My love for jazz & my desire to travel. It was only a few years ago that I only loved R&B and was a homebody. Quite the contrast, right?

My mother has my past. And will, forever and always…

But my present is building and my future is vast and wide-open. Above/around me is a God who alone is omniscient (all-knowing). My parents are responsible for the person that I am today. They were entrusted with the great task of teaching me foundational truths. Truth concerning God. Truth concerning Love. Truth concerning right and wrong. How to treat people. Manners. Keeping your word. Putting others first…and above all…God. Standing up for what is noble and pure. Speaking up AND holding your tongue (having the wisdom to know when each is appropriate).

They have taught me these things. Therefore, I owe them so much. According to God, I owe them my honor. How? Through how I live my life. Will I continue in the things that they have taught me? I intend to…with all my might.

But that is simply the foundation. What is built on top of that is of God’s (my) choosing. And I must have faith in God and courage within myself to build. And this house…will look unlike anything that my family has seen in their lifetimes combined. Or I.

It has to be different….There has to be more….