Tag: growth

Who Am I? I Was Her All Along.

Brenda Stratton

I began writing this blog to leave behind family stories for my children and grandchildren.

My writing unfolded chronologically, weaving my stories together with memories of my family and the stories they told me. 

In considering the header for the blog, I wanted one that honored those stories and my voice.

I had a vision for a roll-top desk, but that alone wasn’t quite right. Something was missing. 

Then I came across a nature scene.

It made me stop and take a quick intake of breath. 

And in that moment, something shifted.

This is who I am.

The little girl who grew up on a farm.

The little girl who always had a passion for words from a tender age. 

The little girl who discovered a desire to write in grade school, but didn’t know how to get started. 

Over the years, I’ve tried to answer that question—who am I?—more than once. The answers were usually measured by roles.

  • daughter
  • friend
  • student
  • wife
  • mother
  • crochet designer
  • grandmother
  • editor
  • caretaker
  • widow
  • writer

But none of those, standing alone, ever told the whole story.

They were all true—but they were not the beginning.

The beginning was the farm.

Now I understand why.

It isn’t the place I’m holding onto.

It’s her.

That little girl, living on a farm with her mom and dad and her brother.

She isn’t just part of my story.

She is me.

Grown now.

Shaped by years of living—by love, marriage, children, profound loss, and learning to live again.

And now, by writing.

But still her.

Her story—my story—isn’t over.

There are many tales left to tell. 

That Has to be Enough

Brenda Stratton

There have been many times in my life when I’ve wondered if I was doing things the right way.

That question has come up for me in more ways than I can count.

As a mother, I have wondered if I was being too strict… or too permissive. 

What I learned goes back to something my mother told me many years ago—something that has stayed with me ever since:

“If you do the best you can with the information you have at the time, that is all anyone can do.”

I’ve always tried to do the right thing, even when I wasn’t sure what the right thing was.

All I could do was look at the situation, consider what I knew at the time, and make the best decision I could.

Did I make mistakes along the way? Of course I did. That’s part of being human.

There were times I wished things had turned out differently. I spent years going back over those moments, thinking about what I could have done better—even though the outcome never changed.

Somewhere along the way, I equated doing my best with doing things perfectly.

And when things didn’t turn out the way I hoped, I held onto that as regret.

It took me a long time to understand something I hadn’t seen before.

“I can’t judge what I did forty years ago by who I am today.”

I am not perfect. I never was, and I never will be.

But I did the best I knew how to do at the time—and that has to be enough.