When You Forget Who You Are

When You Forget Who You Are

I don’t exactly remember how, but somehow I ended up with a long piece of blue masking tape on my shirt. My name was printed on it in black sharpie.

“Is that for in case you forget who you are?” My not-so-little-anymore brother laughed at me from across the room.

He was just being funny, but the comment stayed with me for a while.


How could I forget who I am? I spend every minute of every day with myself. I can’t get away from me even when I want to. But the funny thing is sometimes I do forget who I am.


Some days the list I use to describe myself is a long and rambling list of facts. . . I have long brown hair. . . I hate horror movies. . . I live in Ohio. . . I don’t like breakfast food. . . I sing constantly. . .


But are these what I am? Am I defined by the fact that I hate making phone calls? Or the fact that Spring is my favorite season? The list is silly. That list isn’t me. I’d still be Sarah if I had a pixie cut, and green eyes.


It’s kind of odd to think about, but sometimes I do forget who I am. It’s easy to rattle off random facts about myself, but it’s much harder to really ask, “Who am I?” When I really ask myself who I am, my list is much shorter – but it is also much more beautiful.

My name is Sarah George Peterson, and I am a child of the one true king. And in the end, that’s what makes me, well, me.



{Photo Credit: http://weheartit.com/entry/42066385/via/rebelheartt}