Until I was about 4, my Daddy did his residency in Orlando, Florida (which included one of Disney World’s hospitals) ergo we got into Disney World free every day except Christmas and New Year’s. ‘Magic’ doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of my experience. I attribute this to my idolization of Princess Belle and adoration of all things Disney.
My four siblings and I were all born in different states [Ohio, Florida, North Carolina, Michigan, & New Mexico] and all of our social security numbers start with a different number. Can you guess where I was born??
Grand Cayman seems to run deeply in my family’s blood. The bond began in about 1980 when my Grandpa Wilson’s job relocated him there, WAY before the island was commercialized [no TV’s, one radio station, you get the picture…] and before land cost $2,000 per square foot [seriously…] My Granny has a big (OLD) photo album she compiled from all their time there- flipping through it is like skimming through a dream. To this day our family goes back to Cayman and stays at little ol Bodden Town on that stretch of secluded paradise.
When I was born, Mama completely quit her job to raise me. Countless ‘story times’ at the children’s library. Adventures to the children’s museum that left my little heart in awe. ‘Helping’ her make dreamy vanilla cakes with homemade, delicate candied flowers. Trips to the park wearing cute lil rompers to see and feed ‘duckies.’ Prayers over my soul that began long before I was born. A lifetime of eagerness, involvement, and nurturing that has yet to cease. I am the woman I am because Mama was ‘Mama’ to me.
Though I see myself going into family medicine, I absolutely adore surgery. I shadowed my first surgeon after Sophomore year in college for ‘resume gold stars’ but fell head-over-heels in love with it. Did not see it coming. Who knew?
My Daddy defines my definitions of ‘manhood’ and ‘character.’ Sometimes I think that the Lord favors and identifies with my father’s heart the same way He did with King David. I want to be who I am because of who Daddy is. I married Grayson because there happened to be another man out there that was also such an outstanding exemplification of this same ‘manhood’ and ‘character.’ I want to bring sons into the world that are like them.
When I was 13 I was quite the comfortable little brat, and was forced to go on my first foreign mission trip. A big ol “reality = check!” and Christ’s grace melted my icy heart, and through that same grace I have been on about 13 foreign mission trips since then.
A short list of some of my most favorite things would have to include Pilates, Yorkies, Scripture, fresh flowers, laughing so stinking hard I can’t make a sound/breathe, and long intimate conversations over fabulous cups of coffee with the people I adore. This list is not comprehensive or complete. But includes stuff I’ve been doing a lot of this week, plan to do lots more of, and get excited butterflies when I think about them.
From ages 3-6, we lived on an Air Force Base in New Mexico where Daddy served as a doctor. My favorite memory was how toddler Garrett would give the most precious salutes to the guards at the base-entry check point as we drove through. One day, one guard saluted Garrett back. He squealed and giggled in his booster seat the entire ride to our home.
My least favorite memory from Holloman Air Force Base was discovering (prematurely) that Santa was a big fat hoax. We’d been to the mall 30 minutes away and visited Santa before going to a Christmas party at Daddy’s hospital on base. I asked Santa how he’d gotten there so quickly. He told me something about a sleigh and reindeer. I thought: “Dude… we are right in the middle of a desert… you are lying to me…and I can see your black mustache…”
Spring of my Junior year in college I shadowed a cardiothoracic surgeon and held a beating human heart in my own hands. About 3 days later I finally fully processed what just happened.
The Christmas before I got married I went to Uganda and came back a different woman. First mission trip where I myself, in and through Christ’s grace, was responsible for foreign ministry by personally, intimately, one-on-one sharing Christ: from Rosette, the precious single mother in a thatched roof hut raising two children-Paul and Pauline- all of them abandoned by a father that ran off with a Muslim woman; to Pastor John in a refugee camp bordering the Congo whose wife and baby were once taken hostage by the LRA but lived both to tell about it and praise the Lord. Their lives are branded on my heart.
I adore cooking, it runs deep in my blood. My first memories of it are when I was a little girl, watching my mother’s mother’s mother make a Sugar Cream Pie. I was mortified because she used her hands to make and stir everything. I can still hear her aged, honey-like voice responding to my horrified question: “Well baby, God made these first so I figured they must work better.” A peep into the legacy of cooks I come from.
Mega confession- I also adore motherhood in a way that is so innate, so a part of me, that it is incredibly hard to describe using words. I remember when Mama gave birth to my brothers, I myself pretended to ‘give birth’ to my dollies and teddy bears and nurse them at my own chest. Told ya- mega confession.
From the very instant I was knit together, Christ spoke ‘Mine’ over my soul. In second grade my heart was introduced to His precious Face. Each day is a new precious discovery of that Face. After my last breath is drawn I will see that Face with my own.
“…With unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord…” 2 Cor 3:18
