I believe a proper introduction is in order.
Hello, I’m Emma Grager [insert handshake here].
I’ve been doing this thing called life for a little over 19 years now. But the adventure it has been is so great, that one little number doesn’t seem to do it justice.
Here are some more numbers to fill in the picture:
Number of stamps in my passport: 8
Number of places I have lived: 3
Number of languages I speak: 3
Number of universities at which I’ve studied: 3
Number of instruments I play: 5
Ratio of items of clothing in my closet to days in a week: 10:1
Ratio of sugar and cream to one cup of coffee: 2 and a splash: 1 (repeat as necessary)
Number of hours I spent driving a ski boat this summer: 220
Number of songs I’ve written: 29
Number of miles I currently am from “home”: 2,360
Ratio of Italian heritage to Norwegian heritage: 1:1
Number of books on my shelf: 32
Ratio of words said to hand gestures used: 3:1
But maybe you’re like me, and words matter a lot more than numbers to you. In that case, let me add some color.
I was born in Seattle, the first of two daughters of Courtney and Steve. I called that rainy city home until we moved to the East Bay area of California when I was four. My early years explain my combined love of storms and beaches. But I’d say I’m a California kid at heart.
In the little suburb of Danville, my sister Camille and I spent most of our time playing outdoors. Six-year-old Emma could cook up a mean mud pie, construct a pond-worthy vessel for Lego people out of tin foil, and draw up architectural plans for a new tree house in just minutes. Little Emma also adored words: multicolored, dirigible, antagonize. Poor little Emma could not understand why her love of words meant that she had to change schools. Apparently first graders aren’t supposed to be able to read Stuart Little until much later.
I started second grade at a challenging private Christian school, which I attended until high school. The Christian Academy allowed my love of academics to flourish and my faith in Jesus to grow.
Starting high school felt like that first day of second grade in a lot of ways. I was surrounded by new people in an unfamiliar environment, anxious and excited.
But some important things were different.
My parents divorced that summer.
I quit taking classical violin lessons, as I had been for the previous ten years.
And I had been totally in love with Jesus Christ for about six years.
Family, music, and faith were and are the most influential aspects in my life. Each of these changes became blessings of their own in my high school years.
As far as family goes, the divorce meant that my mom had finally found her self-worth and we had a shot at being psychologically healthy adults someday. I now live, when I visit home, with my mom and my sister. We “Grager Girls” make the best team I’ve ever been on.
Speaking of teams, sports were never my thing. I’ve tried everything you can think of. I now stick to snow skiing in the winter, water skiing in the summer, and going to the gym in between.
Instead my passion and gift lies in music. Stopping violin lessons didn’t mean stopping violin. Now, I play improvisational instead of classical. I’ve also picked up a few other instruments along the way. In fact, I have dedicated my career to the writing of songs, thanks to a little nudge from my main man, Jesus. But that’s a different story for another time.
My faith informs my entire existence. I’m sold out and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My walk with God is a daily discovery of his grace, justice, love, and forgiveness. I don’t claim to know what I’m doing by any means, but I do claim to be His.
Family, music, and faith carried me through high school and to some fabulously unexpected places.
Like Georgetown University for a class on justice and peace.
Like Sojourners Magazine for a volunteer internship in writing.
Like Kenya for a worldview-altering experience with AIDS orphans.
Like a houseboat ministry camp for a summer of beautiful chaos.
And, ultimately, here, to Vanderbilt University, as an English Creative Writing major.
To this sentence.
And from here on, I hope to use my love of words in combination with my other loves (fiddle music, Kenyan chai, old photos, long stories, rainy days, French pastries, Instagram, Photoshop, The Great Gatsby, hiking, new people, old places, Shakespeare, traveling, new book smell, chocolate, Donne, and so much more) to give you a fresh perspective on the fascinating thing we do called life.
By means of analogy.
Because somehow I am kind of like you.
And you are kind of like me.
And somehow This Is Kind of Like That.
