Writing a blog was a lot easier on the farm.
I began writing to chronicle some of our experiences so the children would have stories to remember. I loved hearing my parents and grandparents tell stories throughout my growing up. I have written most of my life. I have boxes of journals. Filled with lists, stories, cries, prayers, hurts, recipes, sermons, grocery lists, bad poetry, cuss words and fears. I still journal. Not as frequently as some years, but still fairly regularly.
I don't mind if the children read those journals at some point. But somewhere along the way, I realized that I wrote in journals when I was confused, sad or angry. It was a great way to get things out of my system. A place to safely process junk.
After a year or two on the farm, reading other people's blogs, I saw the blog arena as a place to capture some of the lovelier moments. The perfect venue to photograph with the written word a moment in time. I have strived to keep it real. To me, the most lovely things are not perfectly sanitized. Sometimes the most beautiful things are painful, a bit messy, and occasionally confusing. I want the kids to see that the good life is real and full. And to see that God is in the middle of every bit of it. Having the discipline of writing in the blog was helpful to me. Better than only writing when miserable! Although you may remind me that there have been seasons of misery, and I have asked you to walk along with me, and it has amazed me how much beauty and joy have been woven into the painful times.
Everyday on the farm there was something to catalog. The first day we heard the peepers every year. The blooming of the cherry tree. The different seasons of the willow. If I needed to know when a certain lamb was born, I could search it on the blog. My almanac of sorts.
In our new life I enjoy the seasons. Love to feel the way the air touches my skin on an early morning these days, moist and full of springtime and birdsong. (and pollen!) The desert never ceases to amaze me. But the cares of the world, work, managing, all that stuff, seem to fill me up with boring things. I don't know what part I want to capture for the kids anymore.
God is still in the middle of every bit of our life.
Bear with me as I ramble, because I am trying to figure out why I am still blogging. Or why I don't feel like blogging anymore. Ever since we moved here, I have been feeling a bit wobbly, not knowing what my blog's goal or objective is anymore. I could make it a bakery blog, which would clearly define things, keeping it fairly simple. I could continue to write about our grief journey, which is still very real. But depressing for some people to be faced with deep pain. Then there is single parenthood life, small town life, desert living, healthy living.
Perhaps this blog is suffering from a drought. Maybe a gentle, metaphorical spring rain would nourish me. Perhaps an electrical metaphorical thunderstorm would help inspire me.
In the meantime, the laundry and dishes are waiting. The Saturday cleanup is not happening. Easter dinner sides and rolls must be made. Church needs dusting. And here I sit, typing a bunch of nonsense into my computer!!!
I began writing to chronicle some of our experiences so the children would have stories to remember. I loved hearing my parents and grandparents tell stories throughout my growing up. I have written most of my life. I have boxes of journals. Filled with lists, stories, cries, prayers, hurts, recipes, sermons, grocery lists, bad poetry, cuss words and fears. I still journal. Not as frequently as some years, but still fairly regularly.
I don't mind if the children read those journals at some point. But somewhere along the way, I realized that I wrote in journals when I was confused, sad or angry. It was a great way to get things out of my system. A place to safely process junk.
After a year or two on the farm, reading other people's blogs, I saw the blog arena as a place to capture some of the lovelier moments. The perfect venue to photograph with the written word a moment in time. I have strived to keep it real. To me, the most lovely things are not perfectly sanitized. Sometimes the most beautiful things are painful, a bit messy, and occasionally confusing. I want the kids to see that the good life is real and full. And to see that God is in the middle of every bit of it. Having the discipline of writing in the blog was helpful to me. Better than only writing when miserable! Although you may remind me that there have been seasons of misery, and I have asked you to walk along with me, and it has amazed me how much beauty and joy have been woven into the painful times.
Everyday on the farm there was something to catalog. The first day we heard the peepers every year. The blooming of the cherry tree. The different seasons of the willow. If I needed to know when a certain lamb was born, I could search it on the blog. My almanac of sorts.
In our new life I enjoy the seasons. Love to feel the way the air touches my skin on an early morning these days, moist and full of springtime and birdsong. (and pollen!) The desert never ceases to amaze me. But the cares of the world, work, managing, all that stuff, seem to fill me up with boring things. I don't know what part I want to capture for the kids anymore.
God is still in the middle of every bit of our life.
Bear with me as I ramble, because I am trying to figure out why I am still blogging. Or why I don't feel like blogging anymore. Ever since we moved here, I have been feeling a bit wobbly, not knowing what my blog's goal or objective is anymore. I could make it a bakery blog, which would clearly define things, keeping it fairly simple. I could continue to write about our grief journey, which is still very real. But depressing for some people to be faced with deep pain. Then there is single parenthood life, small town life, desert living, healthy living.
Perhaps this blog is suffering from a drought. Maybe a gentle, metaphorical spring rain would nourish me. Perhaps an electrical metaphorical thunderstorm would help inspire me.
In the meantime, the laundry and dishes are waiting. The Saturday cleanup is not happening. Easter dinner sides and rolls must be made. Church needs dusting. And here I sit, typing a bunch of nonsense into my computer!!!
7 comments:
Ginger, I love your words, and even when you may feel they are "nonsense" they are windows into your heart. That's a beautiful thing. Even when it's hard or not going well, or feels wobbly and without a "theme". Thank you for sharing your heart. I think sometimes its just part of the practice of contemplation to write, so the writing is free to be whatever it needs to be. And God shows up in the words to speak to our heart, and that's also a beautiful thing! Happy Easter, Resurrection, and Risen Christ.
Christ is risen indeed. Spring has sprung here, if a bit cold and late this year. I liked what Laura said, I too love your words. I think your readers are happy to have whatever you feel like writing about. I hope you'll show up here when you feel inspired to write. Best wishes on keeping all those balls in the air, and be happy when you are able to bend down and pick up the dropped ones.
Dear Laura, Thanks for the kind comment! And what you say is write on. Thanks, Chris, for your encouragement also! (and you other friends who take the time to chime in via email.) Isn't it silly to have to go thru such a process of giving oneself permission to do what one wants to do. And that is, write about whatever I feel like, when I feel like!
Ginger,
Only write if you want to write.
Know that your honesty and the compelling track of your life make for good reading.
Someday your kids will enjoy reading this blog and knowing more about where they came from and who their mom is. You may also enjoy reading it and thinking, "Those were some tough and also some beautiful times." And, "I forgot how hard that was. I am glad that it all worked out."
Paul S.
Paul, thanks for summing it up so perfectly. You get it! Hope you and yours are finding plenty of beautiful times.
Ginger
Please don't quit blogging....your posts are always like a healing balm to me. Sometimes I don't visit for months and then I come and read like it's a novel. I love it so much...just the mundane...hearing of your bakery, travels, the kids and every mother understands the hectic days, but it always calms me and makes me pause and enjoy. Do continue.
Ginger, you have a gift and what a blessing it is for those of us to read it. When you talk about the apricot tree or the fig and the wisteria bursting into bloom, I know it in my mind and heart. Don't stop. Judy Turner Sproul :))
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