Tuesday, February 16, 2010

I blog, therefore I remember

"Do not trust your memory. It is a net full of holes. The most beautiful prizes slip through it." George Duhamel

{Joel's story idea realized with help from Sam}

Recently, I listened to Donald Miller read his own book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  In the beginning he talks about this friend of his who writes down any memory that ever comes to him.  

He says, "He's the only guy I know who actually remembers his life.  He said he captures memories because if he forgets them it's as though they didn't happen.  It's as though he hadn't lived the parts he doesn't remember."

I'm amazed how quickly I forget the funny thing that one of the kids say.  I'll tell myself to be sure to share the story with the family that night at dinner and a few short hours later I can't remember the exact words (if I even remember to tell the story).  I don't want to forget my life.  I don't want the kids to forget theirs.  I don't want it be as though it didn't happen.  And so I write and I take pictures.  

And the other day when Joel asked to look at the blog, I was pleased to hear him remembering out loud.  "I remember that," he'd say with sparkles in his eyes.   He was only three when we went to Topsail Island for a family reunion/vacation, but he has very vivid memories of certain parts which I'm sure are that clear for him due to the stories recorded in the pictures.  

All the pictures on this post were taken yesterday!
{Joel loves to put this padding on under his football jerseys so he looks strong and "just like a football player"}

So...I've got some stories to tell, ones I'm sure I will soon forget if I don't get them written down.  

It was Sunday morning.  Mark and Sam had left early for church.  Jack, Joel and I were listening to 104.9 The River out of Columbus, OH online while eating breakfast.   My Savior My God by Aaron Shust came on and we probably sang along with it, I don't remember.  

When it was finished, Jack said, "I like that song, but it seems kind of like 'they' are calling God a baby by calling him Goddy."  

And I laughed and laughed when I realized what he was talking about. 

"My God He was, My God He is" sounded to him like, "My Goddy was, My Goddy is." He thought it was awfully disrespectful!  

And then we all laughed and we are still laughing over that.  

I'm thinking about the next time we sing that song in a worship service in the States.  It's going to be tough keeping it together.
{play inspired by the Olympic Games?}

Yesterday afternoon when I went into Joel's room with him to read a chapter of Ginger Pye before his rest time, I grabbed a blanket and said, "Brrrr it's cold in here.  I need a blanket."  

"Me too," he said, as he wormed his way under my blanket with me.  And then, "I could get my own blanket, but I want to touch your body."

I was working on some publicity for a social activity at the YWCA with our church.  Joel was hanging out with me and talking non-stop like usual.  

He was telling me that he was going to be making a surprise with Aunt Barb (his adopted Grandma) the next day when he would spent the morning at her house.  He seemed solid in his resolve not to divulge the secret.  A few minutes went by and he asked me to guess what it was.  

But I somehow didn't connect (because I probably wasn't really listening) that the question was related to the earlier talk about a surprise.  I knew, however, that he wanted me to guess food.  So I was absent-mindedly and extravagantly naming concoctions like "double chocolate ice cream cake". 

"Nooooo!" he'd say with laughter after each suggestion.  And then he said with excitement beaming from his eyes, "It's cookies!" And immediately after the words popped out of his mouth his face fell, and he said with disappointment and regret, "I'm sad I telled you that."  

And I scooped the poor thing up in my arms wanting to console him, but all I could do was to laugh and laugh and laugh.

That was Monday and for the next two days whenever we'd remind him that he'd be going over to Aunt Barb's house on Wednesday, he'd say, "But we are not making cookies."  And that would get me going again.  

What a stitch!
It was Sam's birthday yesterday.  He's 13, and I'm wondering how that happened. 

He had the day off from school due to parent/teacher conferences.  How do you like that?  The perfect present for a kid like Sam. 
We had a quiet but fun day together. 

So there it is...my main reason for blogging. I'm pretty happy to have some 400 posts that document our lives.

I only wish that I had started like some 13 years ago.