Travelin’Oma Week 6, Day 1. Oma had some family emergencies last week and so we had a little break. I missed it! I’m so glad this class is 12 weeks long!
Journal keeping.
I have four very good examples of people that come to mind when I think of excellent journal keepers. Debby (my sister), Rebekah (my cousin), Tom (my uncle), and Jenalyn (a friend). They have been fabulous at providing a benchmark of what I strive for but fall tremendously short of. In fact, the rest of our family often calls Debby when in need of finding out when something in the past may have happened (even if it was important to us and not central to her own life) – it is often recorded in her journal. In my ideal life, I am a perfect journal keeper. But in reality, I am VERY far from it.
I think the main problem with this is that I am such an all-or-nothing person. If I can’t do something all the way, I don’t like to do it at all. So a 4 sentence entry in a journal isn’t worth it to me when I know that I would really need 4 pages to do the memories justice. This all-or-nothing attitude is something I have been working on for years and am getting much better at in general, but sadly, it still applies in a significant way to my journaling efforts.
In an attempt to overcome this, I am going to record here 5 ways that I have kept up with my personal history in other ways throughout the years so that I can remember that I am doing something to record my life, even if not in ways that I think of as “ideal.”
1. Weekly family update emails
2. Blogging
3. Photo albums
4. Letter writing (with copies of the letters)
5. Verbally sharing memories together as a family so that the memories stay fresher in my mind so that when I get around to writing them down they are easier to remember.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Almost Imperceptible
Travelin’Oma, Week 5, Day 2.
Almost imperceptible.
When I look back at past journal entries, I often cringe. I cannot believe I was so foolish, immature, obnoxious, pathetic, etc.… Mostly, I just want to throw all my journals into a large bonfire and watch the flames lick the edges of the memories and turn them to ashes. I’m not sure if others have such strong feelings about some of their earlier years, but mine usually make me nauseated. I think it’s because I hope I’ve grown and learned to be a wiser, more cautious, deeper person (and let’s add here, more socially adept) and having written records of the past means that I can’t completely let go of it. And worst of all, it is a reminder that others remember me that way as well. Those who are still in close contact with me can let my past fade into the background, because they know who I am now, but what about all the rest?
I have changed dramatically from who I was ten years ago. The changes from day to day seem almost imperceptible. But the changes are there, and I have slowly become a new woman. I hope that the good things about me when I was younger have not been thrown out, but have blossomed and increased in magnitude. And the bad things… well, I could wish them away from everyone else’s memories forever, but that won’t happen in this life.
This has taught me a great lesson about giving others the benefit of the doubt. I hope that those that I knew then and those that I know now will keep growing as well, and won’t remain stagnant. To remember them should be recalling the beautiful, forgiving the ugly, and hoping that they too have made some changes that make them a better man or woman.
Almost imperceptible.
When I look back at past journal entries, I often cringe. I cannot believe I was so foolish, immature, obnoxious, pathetic, etc.… Mostly, I just want to throw all my journals into a large bonfire and watch the flames lick the edges of the memories and turn them to ashes. I’m not sure if others have such strong feelings about some of their earlier years, but mine usually make me nauseated. I think it’s because I hope I’ve grown and learned to be a wiser, more cautious, deeper person (and let’s add here, more socially adept) and having written records of the past means that I can’t completely let go of it. And worst of all, it is a reminder that others remember me that way as well. Those who are still in close contact with me can let my past fade into the background, because they know who I am now, but what about all the rest?
I have changed dramatically from who I was ten years ago. The changes from day to day seem almost imperceptible. But the changes are there, and I have slowly become a new woman. I hope that the good things about me when I was younger have not been thrown out, but have blossomed and increased in magnitude. And the bad things… well, I could wish them away from everyone else’s memories forever, but that won’t happen in this life.
This has taught me a great lesson about giving others the benefit of the doubt. I hope that those that I knew then and those that I know now will keep growing as well, and won’t remain stagnant. To remember them should be recalling the beautiful, forgiving the ugly, and hoping that they too have made some changes that make them a better man or woman.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Prayer
Travelin’Oma, Week 5, Day 1. Very tough to narrow down today. I now have much blogging fodder for after this class is over.
Prayer
Today has been a day of much pondering and much gratitude.
I am extremely grateful for prayer. For prayers that are answered like I would like them to be, and also for the peace that comes when my prayers aren’t answered as I would like them to be. This peace is born of the love that I feel from my Heavenly Father, that He knows me and loves me. He wants what is best for me.
I had two specific prayers answered today. One was a simple prayer, requested by Austin. He was trying to find his blue blankie and couldn’t locate it. He came up and snuggled with me and said, “Can we say a prayer? Heavenly Father will help me find my blankie.” The faith of a child is a beautiful thing. He asked me to say the prayer and then we looked for it together, holding hands while we walked around the house. The blanket was in Pa’a’s office. Afterward, he said the prayer of thanks and snuggled with me again. The other is a prayer that I have been repeating in various forms for a few years now. It was a prayer for a good friend of mine. I found out today that the prayer has finally been answered. What an overwhelming joy filled my heart when I heard! Immediately I was consumed with a desire to thank God in prayer for hearing my cries, and surely the cries of many others, in bringing to pass this blessing.
Not all prayers are answered in these ways, but the sweet assurance can come to us whether our desires are carried out or not. There are many, many other prayers I have pled for that have not been answered as I could have foreseen, but God is always there, leading my life, and calming my soul.
One option for today’s assignment was to write a poem. I do not, in any way, confess to being a poet, but will try some free verse poetry to express my feelings this day.
Prayer
Pleading, yearning.
Silent, soothing.
Intimate and eternal,
Prayer delivers peace.
Prayer
Today has been a day of much pondering and much gratitude.
I am extremely grateful for prayer. For prayers that are answered like I would like them to be, and also for the peace that comes when my prayers aren’t answered as I would like them to be. This peace is born of the love that I feel from my Heavenly Father, that He knows me and loves me. He wants what is best for me.
I had two specific prayers answered today. One was a simple prayer, requested by Austin. He was trying to find his blue blankie and couldn’t locate it. He came up and snuggled with me and said, “Can we say a prayer? Heavenly Father will help me find my blankie.” The faith of a child is a beautiful thing. He asked me to say the prayer and then we looked for it together, holding hands while we walked around the house. The blanket was in Pa’a’s office. Afterward, he said the prayer of thanks and snuggled with me again. The other is a prayer that I have been repeating in various forms for a few years now. It was a prayer for a good friend of mine. I found out today that the prayer has finally been answered. What an overwhelming joy filled my heart when I heard! Immediately I was consumed with a desire to thank God in prayer for hearing my cries, and surely the cries of many others, in bringing to pass this blessing.
Not all prayers are answered in these ways, but the sweet assurance can come to us whether our desires are carried out or not. There are many, many other prayers I have pled for that have not been answered as I could have foreseen, but God is always there, leading my life, and calming my soul.
One option for today’s assignment was to write a poem. I do not, in any way, confess to being a poet, but will try some free verse poetry to express my feelings this day.
Prayer
Pleading, yearning.
Silent, soothing.
Intimate and eternal,
Prayer delivers peace.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Happiness
Week 4, Day 5. Thanks Travelin’Oma. I needed this.
10 little things that improved my happiness.
In the last 24 hours, here are some little things that increased my happiness.
1. Listening to Matthew (2 ½ years old) pray and say, “Thank you for my girlie.” (Elizabeth is his girlie.)
2. Having Austin come and sit on my lap and say, “I love you, my mommy.”
3. Tickling Elizabeth’s tummy and have her giggle at me.
4. Observing my mom and Trish during their “work day” (aka sewing day) and enjoying their friendship with each other and also their friendship with me.
5. Eating pot stickers for lunch. Mmm mmm, dee-li-cious!
6. Watching my sister-in-law make progress on quilting a quilt for one of her sons’ Christmas presents and imagining how excited he will be to receive it.
7. Having someone willing to listen to me when I desperately needed it.
8. Quietly recognizing how much my parents still sacrifice for me, my husband, and my children and how willing they are to help ease our burdens, even when incredibly inconvenient to them.
9. Snuggling on the couch with Austin and Matthew while we watched an episode of Little Einsteins together before they went to bed. (The best part is listening to them loudly sing the introduction song.)
10. Praying with my husband over the phone at night even though, for the time being, we cannot be together for most days of the week.
10 little things that improved my happiness.
In the last 24 hours, here are some little things that increased my happiness.
1. Listening to Matthew (2 ½ years old) pray and say, “Thank you for my girlie.” (Elizabeth is his girlie.)
2. Having Austin come and sit on my lap and say, “I love you, my mommy.”
3. Tickling Elizabeth’s tummy and have her giggle at me.
4. Observing my mom and Trish during their “work day” (aka sewing day) and enjoying their friendship with each other and also their friendship with me.
5. Eating pot stickers for lunch. Mmm mmm, dee-li-cious!
6. Watching my sister-in-law make progress on quilting a quilt for one of her sons’ Christmas presents and imagining how excited he will be to receive it.
7. Having someone willing to listen to me when I desperately needed it.
8. Quietly recognizing how much my parents still sacrifice for me, my husband, and my children and how willing they are to help ease our burdens, even when incredibly inconvenient to them.
9. Snuggling on the couch with Austin and Matthew while we watched an episode of Little Einsteins together before they went to bed. (The best part is listening to them loudly sing the introduction song.)
10. Praying with my husband over the phone at night even though, for the time being, we cannot be together for most days of the week.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Love of Reading
Travelin’Oma, Week 4, Day 4. I guess Oma and I think alike since I wrote my post about tradition on Tuesday. I loved her article about traditions and it gave me more ideas for today as well, so here we go…
A love of reading.
One thing that I just adore is to give the perfect gift. Whether it is something someone mentioned ages ago that they forgot they wanted or the exact thing they never knew they wanted but now will not be able to live without, I want to give it to them. So far in my marriage, I have done pretty well, if I do say so myself, at giving perfect gifts to my husband, even with his birthday and Christmas only two days apart. But for his birthday one year, I gave him one of the best gifts ever.
Douglas L. Callister once said, “If we know the books located at the bedside, we know much about the man.” Next to Joseph’s bed are mounds of books. Novels, textbooks, collections of essays, and even books about books. Piles and piles. And not just books. Magazines. Articles. Newspapers. There is much by this bedside to tell of this man. I am not allowed to touch this sacred tower of tomes. Heaven forbid I mess up the “organization” of the chaos.
So for his birthday two years ago, I purchased the perfect gift for him. It is called a reader’s night stand and I purchased it from Brookstone. It was on back order, scheduled to ship a month after his birthday, so I was just going to have to tell him about it on his birthday so he could anticipate it until this treasure arrived. Not the ideal situation for a perfect gift. It makes it not quite so perfect. However, to my surprise, it ended up arriving two days before his birthday! While he was at work, I assembled it and then hid it in a closet where he wouldn’t find it. On his birthday, I brought it in to our room while he was sleeping and put it near to his side of the bed. Don’t worry, I didn’t dare put my life in danger by presuming to take his stacks and arrange them on the shelves for him. Near the side of the bed was as close as I could safely place this gem. He was thrilled. It really was the perfect gift. Over the last (almost) two years, the books placed on these shelves have changed from time to time, but it is always full to overflowing, with the excess spilling onto the floor and nearby dressers and shelves.
The book shelf I bought for him
Joseph loves to read. So do I. We both spend much of our time reading. We almost never watch television and rarely watch movies because the excitement of turning the pages of a good story to find out what happens next almost always seems more inviting. We read some of the same books, and each of us read some books the other would never be interested in. My favorite reading we do is reading out loud together. Since we have been married, we have always had a read-aloud selection somewhere in the library collected on my husband’s side of the bed. Over the last five and a half years, our choices have included the following:
Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle
And Both Were Young by Madeleine L’Engle
Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle
Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle
Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriott
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
Wayne and Elna (a family history of my great-grandparents – my dad’s mother’s parents)
King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry
Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (our current book)
We also read to our children. I read to them. Joseph reads to them. And, as mentioned in a recent blog post, Joseph also is sharing the wonders of The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder with them before they go to sleep at night.
However, the most magical thing of all is that they love reading on their own. Funny enough, neither of them actually knows how to read. That doesn’t stop them. They are intrepid in their literary pursuits regardless of ability to read the words on the pages. They read books from our extensive children’s book shelves, they ask to check out books from the public library, and Austin has started pouring over Calvin and Hobbes and Baby Blues and laughing hysterically at whatever stories he is telling himself as he looks at the pictures. When they go to their room for a time out, and I come to let them know they are finished, I often hear the response, “Just a minute, I have to finish my book first.” In the afternoon they have to take a rest for about two hours. Matthew starts off reading and usually falls asleep. Austin reads for the full two hours.
And one of the sweetest things I have witnessed when checking on my children at bedtime, was the following scene (it actually happens with both children fairly frequently):
A love of reading is a heritage we received from our parents. A love of reading is now a tradition established and shared in our small family, young and old alike.
A love of reading.
One thing that I just adore is to give the perfect gift. Whether it is something someone mentioned ages ago that they forgot they wanted or the exact thing they never knew they wanted but now will not be able to live without, I want to give it to them. So far in my marriage, I have done pretty well, if I do say so myself, at giving perfect gifts to my husband, even with his birthday and Christmas only two days apart. But for his birthday one year, I gave him one of the best gifts ever.
Douglas L. Callister once said, “If we know the books located at the bedside, we know much about the man.” Next to Joseph’s bed are mounds of books. Novels, textbooks, collections of essays, and even books about books. Piles and piles. And not just books. Magazines. Articles. Newspapers. There is much by this bedside to tell of this man. I am not allowed to touch this sacred tower of tomes. Heaven forbid I mess up the “organization” of the chaos.
So for his birthday two years ago, I purchased the perfect gift for him. It is called a reader’s night stand and I purchased it from Brookstone. It was on back order, scheduled to ship a month after his birthday, so I was just going to have to tell him about it on his birthday so he could anticipate it until this treasure arrived. Not the ideal situation for a perfect gift. It makes it not quite so perfect. However, to my surprise, it ended up arriving two days before his birthday! While he was at work, I assembled it and then hid it in a closet where he wouldn’t find it. On his birthday, I brought it in to our room while he was sleeping and put it near to his side of the bed. Don’t worry, I didn’t dare put my life in danger by presuming to take his stacks and arrange them on the shelves for him. Near the side of the bed was as close as I could safely place this gem. He was thrilled. It really was the perfect gift. Over the last (almost) two years, the books placed on these shelves have changed from time to time, but it is always full to overflowing, with the excess spilling onto the floor and nearby dressers and shelves.
The book shelf I bought for himJoseph loves to read. So do I. We both spend much of our time reading. We almost never watch television and rarely watch movies because the excitement of turning the pages of a good story to find out what happens next almost always seems more inviting. We read some of the same books, and each of us read some books the other would never be interested in. My favorite reading we do is reading out loud together. Since we have been married, we have always had a read-aloud selection somewhere in the library collected on my husband’s side of the bed. Over the last five and a half years, our choices have included the following:
Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle
And Both Were Young by Madeleine L’Engle
Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle
Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle
Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriott
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
Wayne and Elna (a family history of my great-grandparents – my dad’s mother’s parents)
King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry
Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (our current book)
We also read to our children. I read to them. Joseph reads to them. And, as mentioned in a recent blog post, Joseph also is sharing the wonders of The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder with them before they go to sleep at night.
However, the most magical thing of all is that they love reading on their own. Funny enough, neither of them actually knows how to read. That doesn’t stop them. They are intrepid in their literary pursuits regardless of ability to read the words on the pages. They read books from our extensive children’s book shelves, they ask to check out books from the public library, and Austin has started pouring over Calvin and Hobbes and Baby Blues and laughing hysterically at whatever stories he is telling himself as he looks at the pictures. When they go to their room for a time out, and I come to let them know they are finished, I often hear the response, “Just a minute, I have to finish my book first.” In the afternoon they have to take a rest for about two hours. Matthew starts off reading and usually falls asleep. Austin reads for the full two hours.
And one of the sweetest things I have witnessed when checking on my children at bedtime, was the following scene (it actually happens with both children fairly frequently):
A love of reading is a heritage we received from our parents. A love of reading is now a tradition established and shared in our small family, young and old alike.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
World War II
Travelin’Oma: Week 4, Day 3. This one gave me a lot to ponder.
World War II
Today I have tried to pinpoint precisely what it is that I love about books written about World War II, but I am somewhat at a loss. Maybe it is that each story is such a mixture of human emotion, complex and personal, where each man or woman has to find out who they really are and what they believe in. I never judge or blame those who gave in to the pain and suffering – their grief was unimaginable, but I rejoice in the stalwart and courageous who found hope in the darkest of night. What beauty lies in the sacrifices of those who struggled mightily for life when death clung to the hem of their garments, dragging and pulling the reason to live out from underneath them! Beautiful people are not shaped by lives of ease, lives devoid of hardship. Beautiful people are born in the trials, the challenges, and the depths of suffering so deep that they are alone with their Maker. This beauty may or may not be external, but the spirit of the soul shines through their eyes as they conquer and overcome and arrive at a place where, death or life, they know that their light cannot be taken from them.
There are so many wonderful books written about WWII, but I am going to share a few that are not as obvious in some ways.
Exodus by Leon Uris. Many people don’t know that this book has so much to do with WWII. It is the story of the birth of the state of Israel, but integral to that story are the stories of the Jews who needed something to live for and land of their own after WWII. This is one of my top five books ever. Read it. Now. The movie cannot do it justice.
A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute. In part, this tells the story of an English girl who experiences the war in Malaya, and her experiences in the aftermath of the war.
North to Freedom by Anne Holm. This has been retitled I Am David. This is a story of a child’s perspective following his experience in a concentration camp. Beautiful. Fascinating.
Yellow Star by Jennifer Roy. I loved this. It was very well done, and based on a true story. It is told from the eyes of a child, and written in free verse. A quick read, but so well done.
World War II
Today I have tried to pinpoint precisely what it is that I love about books written about World War II, but I am somewhat at a loss. Maybe it is that each story is such a mixture of human emotion, complex and personal, where each man or woman has to find out who they really are and what they believe in. I never judge or blame those who gave in to the pain and suffering – their grief was unimaginable, but I rejoice in the stalwart and courageous who found hope in the darkest of night. What beauty lies in the sacrifices of those who struggled mightily for life when death clung to the hem of their garments, dragging and pulling the reason to live out from underneath them! Beautiful people are not shaped by lives of ease, lives devoid of hardship. Beautiful people are born in the trials, the challenges, and the depths of suffering so deep that they are alone with their Maker. This beauty may or may not be external, but the spirit of the soul shines through their eyes as they conquer and overcome and arrive at a place where, death or life, they know that their light cannot be taken from them.
There are so many wonderful books written about WWII, but I am going to share a few that are not as obvious in some ways.
Exodus by Leon Uris. Many people don’t know that this book has so much to do with WWII. It is the story of the birth of the state of Israel, but integral to that story are the stories of the Jews who needed something to live for and land of their own after WWII. This is one of my top five books ever. Read it. Now. The movie cannot do it justice.
A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute. In part, this tells the story of an English girl who experiences the war in Malaya, and her experiences in the aftermath of the war.
North to Freedom by Anne Holm. This has been retitled I Am David. This is a story of a child’s perspective following his experience in a concentration camp. Beautiful. Fascinating.
Yellow Star by Jennifer Roy. I loved this. It was very well done, and based on a true story. It is told from the eyes of a child, and written in free verse. A quick read, but so well done.
Bed
This morning, while my children were building farms for their animals and gathering up their "guys" (sensory balls that their Uncle Ray just purchased for the nieces and nephews to enjoy at G'ma's house), Austin shared the following with me:
Austin: Mom, I'm going to bed. I'm sorry, Mom. I just need to go to bed.
Silly Austin! Don't you know that what you just told me is every mother's dream?! No complaints on my part, that's for sure.
Austin: Mom, I'm going to bed. I'm sorry, Mom. I just need to go to bed.
Silly Austin! Don't you know that what you just told me is every mother's dream?! No complaints on my part, that's for sure.
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