I used to write little stories about things my kids did that were cute. I don't know exactly when I stopped - maybe when I became uphappy, maybe when I didn't have enough time. Occasionally when I search through my word documents to delete the ones I don't need, I come across my little stories, events that tickled me when I wrote them. It's amazing how many times I have forgotten the stories, or remembered them incorrectly. I have always resolved to start writing again. . . but there is always an excuse. I'm too tired. I don't have enough time. What is there to write about?
Recently I have been following the story and updates of Stephanie and Christian Nielson and I think of how blessed they will feel, especially Stephanie, when they are able to read the daily happenings of their children when they weren't able to be there for them. You see, they were in a plane crash and were badly burned. Their children went to go live with two of Stephanie's sisters - out of state - because it will be a half a year or more, maybe never, when they are able to care for their children themselves.
What if something were to happen to me? Or simply, what if my kids don't remember the good times - only the times when they got in trouble (which happens a lot!)? Maybe if I resolved to write something positive about them they will remember, and not forget the good things that we do together.
It makes no sense, but doesn't it seem that the negative things in life imprint upon your memory much deeper than the positive? Maybe this will be a counterbalance or will even tip the scales in my favor - our favor.
There's no time like the present.
This morning I didn't feel well. My head hurt, again, making my neck and back hurt too. Its easy to give into slothfulness when you have a headache, day after day. And yes, I feel guilty for not going to church, especially when I only have two kids right now, instead of four. But I guess I didn't feel guilty enough, so I turned off my alarm. I finally got showered and started the dreaded task of getting dressed. It's not fun to pick out clothes when you used to be a size 6 and your headaches and medication have made you gain 30 pounds over the past 2 years. I found a clean but crumpled pair of cropped jeans on the closet floor and put them on. Something made a crackling sound - a sound not normal for putting pants on! I thought, "Oooo, I bet there is a twenty dollar bill in my pocket I forgot about!" (You just don't know how many times I put on pants and find money in the pocket!) I eagerly reached in the pocket and drew out the odd sounding item. As my hand turned over, I realized that the item was white. And lined. And had been ripped out of a notebook. I almost threw it away, but being the "don't throw it away unless you've looked at it" kind of person, I unfolded it several times and saw the handwritten note inside.
It makes no sense, but doesn't it seem that the negative things in life imprint upon your memory much deeper than the positive? Maybe this will be a counterbalance or will even tip the scales in my favor - our favor.
There's no time like the present.
This morning I didn't feel well. My head hurt, again, making my neck and back hurt too. Its easy to give into slothfulness when you have a headache, day after day. And yes, I feel guilty for not going to church, especially when I only have two kids right now, instead of four. But I guess I didn't feel guilty enough, so I turned off my alarm. I finally got showered and started the dreaded task of getting dressed. It's not fun to pick out clothes when you used to be a size 6 and your headaches and medication have made you gain 30 pounds over the past 2 years. I found a clean but crumpled pair of cropped jeans on the closet floor and put them on. Something made a crackling sound - a sound not normal for putting pants on! I thought, "Oooo, I bet there is a twenty dollar bill in my pocket I forgot about!" (You just don't know how many times I put on pants and find money in the pocket!) I eagerly reached in the pocket and drew out the odd sounding item. As my hand turned over, I realized that the item was white. And lined. And had been ripped out of a notebook. I almost threw it away, but being the "don't throw it away unless you've looked at it" kind of person, I unfolded it several times and saw the handwritten note inside.
I immediately knew that my six year old daughter, Em, had written it - who knows when - and given it to me. Probably given to me when she was writing everyone a note, most likely I put it in my pocket because she was watching and well, I very well couldn't throw it away in front of her. So I guess I had put it in my pocket, went about my day and forgot about it. She's always writing notes and giving them to people, mostly me. I don't even remember her doing it but it sure left an impression on me today.
I looked at the note, surprised at how good it made me feel. Normally I would look at it and then throw it away. But today - today I folded it back up and put it back in my pocket.
If we could all be so willing to tell others of our love for them!
But I know the world can't change in an instant. Heck, I can't change in a month much less a year. I will probably be irritated by her choice of clothes tomorrow morning. The way she wants to wear her hair. How her clothes don't even come close to matching. And I will probably yell at her sometime, or two, or three, tomorrow when she doesn't listen to me. Doesn't clean her room. Says, "No!" in a nasty way. I am not necessarily a sentimental person, but today I got to actually carry her love with me.
