My kids have been reading through my blog this past week and enjoying themselves immensely. It's brought up a lot of memories, howling laughter and conversations between them. This is the first time ever that they've been independently interested in what I've written, yet I've been hit with a twinge of guilt. "Mom, why did you stop writing? You should have told about that one time.... I like hearing your voice on paper."
I know. I know.
I am a bit inspired, though, that this little blog is serving the purpose for which it was composed- to give our children a bit of insight into our lives, relationships and history together while passing along my own thoughts and perspectives as God is changing me day by day. It makes me smile to think of the seven of them ten, twenty, even thirty years from now having these writings and pictures in a permanent record and at their disposal at any time. My smile grows even bigger when I imagine my grandchildren learning about their own parents as little boys or girls.
Yesterday I had a conversation with a co-worker who is an author. She was sharing about her passion for writing and how she answers the question, "What do you do?" Though she is a full time NICU nurse, she always responds, "I'm a writer." Writing is what flows naturally for her It is what she must do. It is what she most loves.
I found myself tearing up as I told her about how I have written since I was a child and used to enjoying keeping up a blog. My emotions surprised me. It was much the same feeling that comes over me when I think about playing the piano.
We live in a soundbite kind of world. Little bits of information here or there fill our days. No stories. No details. No time to put it down or take it in.
Perhaps it's time for that to change.