Your roots,
your foundation.
No matter the wind that batters,
nor the storms
that have shaken,
not even time,
from your memory and heart
can it be taken.

I think of myself as a garden.  I think of all of us as gardens.  We are seeds that sprout legs…these bodies are our shells, our vehicles for this life….it gets better or worse in this choose your own adventure.

We are born to the caretakers and gardeners that we are trusted to.  Some do well, some are works in progress, some are lost…some of us are planted in extremes of conditions that make growth difficult, some of us are born into luxury with all the latest farming equipment at the disposal of those who chose to plant us….  everyone’s process is imperfect and blemished … but perfect and beautiful…ALL IN THE SAME BREATH.

When I think of myself as a literal garden, I think of a little girl born Emma Kristine, a soul that was once nothing more than a seed inside my mother.  Who was once a seed inside her mother, who was once a seed inside my great grandma Goodhart.  And just a sliver of light in my father’s eye, a single star among the galaxies that sparkle when he smiles…  I was born with a red-headed spitfire of an older brother that has been the only REAL GOOD AND TRUE example to me of what it is to be a man…he inspires me.  We were a family, living in a Nielsen Bermuda-Triangle of a plot of land on Pilot Point Rd, in Eglon Washington next to the bald eagle tree, struck by lightning before I was born, where the eagles would often perch three at a time to enjoy the panoramic view of the Puget Sound, from Baker to Rainier, and the stenciled skyline of Seattle sky-scrapers off in the distance…

Gardeners are our caretakers:  our family, teachers,  coaches, pastors, and people we allowed to come into our gardens.  Sometimes you let snakes in without even knowing it…
Examples were everywhere in Eglon…of snakes.… and snakes…and all these snakes were born LONG LONG BEFORE THEY CHOSE TO STRIKE….but when you don’t stop a snake, it’s only a matter of time before they do strike.  It’s their nature.  Just like me…I’ve been a volcano….after thirty eight years, I’m erupting.  That is what volcanoes do.  Whether I wanted to or not, it would happen, inevitable, with no reflection on my character, only my genetic design.  To be human is to learn to live life uncomfortable.  We are a quirky breed.

I only trust a snake that identifies itself…  they are easier to forgive, as well.  I can smell a wolf when it’s wearing sheep’s clothing… I’ve always been a people reader.

The snakes in Eglon?  They struck…history is worth investigating so that we can uproot our weeds rather than remove, jail, hide or delete the symptom of it.  You make a business out of negativity when you jail the circus!  You have to round up the ringleader’s to extinguish those kinds of fires! You have to face the demons around you, or else they will scare you into a corner. Weeds grow back if don’t grab them by the root.


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