In the summers growing up, our yard in Havertown, Pennsylvania was full of edible treats. Onion grass, basil, juicy tomatoes, crunchy green beans, and rhubarb. There was something about the rhubarb plant that I never quite understood. We did nothing to tend to it throughout the year. Yet every summer there it was, sprouting up from the tough grass in our suburban yard. My mother would use that rhubarb to make a very tart rhubarb strawberry pie. I was never a cake lover and therefore waited all year for the tasty pie that only went down easily with the sweet strawberries and a dollup of coolwhip on top.
My family is just as hearty and steady as a rhubarb plant. I never did much tending to my mom, dad, four sisters, and one brother growing up...in some cases I think I even tried to cut the roots and drench the soil hoping that they would shrivel up.
However, there they are every year constantly loving me, praying for me, and they have truly become the summer of my life. They warm my days, sprinkle me with sunshine, and sparkle my life with stars and lightening bugs.
This blog will be a dedication to my family, a window for my "new" family, and a brave new step for my thoughts and words.
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