I Am From...

Wherein I share a simple practice to name what makes you, you. Here's mine.

This is a different kind of post, but one that I hope will be really impactful for you as it has been for me over the past few days.

There’s a writing practice I was introduced to recently called an “I Am From” poem. It’s simple in structure, but surprisingly profound in what it uncovers. The idea is to trace the places, people, experiences, beliefs, wounds, and loves that have shaped you — not chronologically, but truthfully. When I was introduced to it about six weeks ago, I rejected it, thinking it was too difficult for me to start to pull that chord of who I am and what makes me, me.

But then a few days ago, after reading a few other’s poems, I was moved to start the process. It’s an incredibly powerful way to consider, in short order, what makes you, you.

This practice doesn’t demand resolution or ask you to tidy up your story or arrive at the “right” ending. It simply invites you to tell the truth about where you come from — spiritually, emotionally, relationally — and to notice how God has been present in all of it, even when you don’t yet have language for that presence.

As I wrote mine, I was struck by how much of my faith story lives not just in my beliefs, but in my body, my grief, my running shoes, my panic attacks, my joy, and my questions. I was reminded that faith isn’t something we perform our way into. It’s something we discover already woven through our lives.

If your faith feels complicated, unfinished, or tender right now — or if you’ve struggled to articulate what you believe — I encourage you to try this practice yourself. You don’t have to share it or make it beautiful — though in full transparency, I would LOVE, LOVE to read yours if you do this practice.

Anyways, here’s mine so you can see what it looks like, and maybe learn a bit more about me and why I write what I write.

I Am From…

I am from God, a wonder I cannot fathom,
and from doubts I’ve carried since birth.
I am from Midwest skies,
sweet summers,
and a home base of love.

I am from doing too much
and feeling too little.
From hopes that disappoint
and dreams that refuse to leave.

I am from trauma that lingers,
and from a God — kind and generous —
who has traveled every moment with me.
From hospital rooms and unconditional love,
from memories too painful to revisit
and compassion too large to name.

I am from a big and frightening God
to one whose embrace I can finally feel.
From long, early mornings on open roads
where I run free
and learn my body is not my enemy.

I am from joy,
hope,
and sorrow too.
From a mother I still miss
and a grief that reshaped me,
learning that love does not disappear
just because someone does.

I am from a life of before and after,
from resilience learned
and gratitude practiced.
From too much Diet Coke,
too many Kit Kats,
and a body that has given me
more days than I ever expected.

I am from words and thoughts
that struggle to feel,
from hundreds of panic attacks
and thousands of hugs,
from family, friends,
and warm puppy love.

I am from God, whom I try to love
and often fear I disappoint.
From fear and hope intertwined,
from questions about heaven.

I am from falling at the feet of Jesus —
beautiful Jesus —
who is far better than I ever imagined.

Want to Try an “I Am From” Poem?

If you’re curious about writing your own “I Am From” poem, here are a few gentle prompts I learned to help you begin. You don’t need to answer all of them.

You might start with:

• I am from… the places that raised me — geography, homes, landscapes, neighborhoods, seasons.

• I am from… the people who shaped me — those who loved me well and those who left a mark in harder ways.

• I am from… early messages about God, faith, or the world — and how those ideas have changed over time.

• I am from… experiences that altered me — grief, illness, joy, failure, recovery, becoming.

• I am from… what lives in my body — anxiety, strength, running, restlessness, healing, fatigue.

• I am from… practices that keep me grounded — prayer, movement, music, silence, community.

• I am from… questions I still carry — about God, love, suffering, heaven, or meaning.

• I am from… the grace I’ve received — named or unnamed, expected or surprising.

I hope you do this practice, friends. And I hope that you see God woven throughout all of who you are. I would love to hear from you if you are willing to share. Message me.

❤️ Much love,

Laurie