What??!! Why in the world title a blog “Dash of Strange?” That’s because I have a little bit of strange in me, as we truly all do—we all have our stories. Some, rich in love, some, in winces of pain, but all of us, a mixture of generations past and our own day-to-day—a graceful, inelegant, exquisite and flawed entwining.
But, I also grew up truly “Strange” as that was my maiden name. Aside from the comedy, as you can imagine, connected with that moniker—standing in line for college dormitory registration, “Is the last person in line “strange?” or for a restaurant reservation, “Strange, party of four, your table is ready,” I did grow up very differently from so many of my peers as my family moved around much of my early life.
My dad, Ray Allen Strange (he really was a Raymond, but strongly disliked his given name and preferred “Ray”) was in the Air Force, and so, every four years in a nomadic tradition, we moved. I was born in Florida and by the age of eight had experienced Texas, a nation to itself, the beautiful windy Chicago, the autumns of Ohio, the wonders of winter in Minnesota, and the southern culture of Virginia. But it was not only those places that impacted me, but also the “family” of the Air Force that I grew up with that shaped so much of who I am. So, when my dad retired in Virginia, I had, grown up very differently from many of my friends and much of what I experienced became my inelegant, lovely flawed story, my own weeds and buttercups… that God has given me to live.
While all of our lives are a tangle of love and laughter, bruises and bumps, and pain along the way, my hope is that these weeds and buttercups will bring hope and in some small way, be a “help” as we walk these days together.
With much love,
Kimberly
