I was re-reading old posts the other day, since the main point of this blog was for me to keep track of me. I never really thought anyone would read it but, maybe, my family. Anyway, as I reread, it occurred to me what a busy bee I seem, clicking my heels and saying, in a Mary Poppins-ish way, “Oh yippee, I do love a new project! A spoonful of elbow grease makes the overachievement go down!”
(365 Day 253)
This is funny, because I’m really not that way. I really like to just lay in bed and stare off into space on Saturday mornings. I hate having more obligations hanging over my shoulders than what being a good wife, mother, daughter requires. I usually get an idea months before even talking about it. I then procrastinate to finish until I’ve forgotten the original plan. I was always starting new journals, never finishing.
But, I noticed in recent years that I wasn’t expressing myself very much. My personal goals were often swallowed up in the business of family life. That’s natural, but as the kids reached a point where they were naturally pulling away from mama a bit, and I had room for self reflection. So, I started a journal that might be a little harder to abandon. Posting this blog was like putting a list of goals on the refrigerator. Seeing it in print, daily would encourage me to photograph almost daily and elaborate on brief wistful thoughts I would have about things I’d like to try. Unlike a crummy wrinkled list next to the handprints on my fridge, though, it would entice me to follow through more than I once was.
And it’s worked for about a year and a half. I’ve never journaled so faithfully (even if it is broad subjects appropriate for an audience of strangers…or nobody.) True to my blog description, I am seeing evidence of personal growth and lessons learned. Plus, nothing motivates like before and afters. I can see the genesis of a project that’s now complete and bearing fruit, or that of an abomination that failed horribly.
(365 Day 252)
Somedays it’s more Pollyanna (my sister’s friends call her that) than I am feeling, but that’s my choice to not focus on something that’s bringing me down. That’s for my prayers. Possibly that’s why this journal keeps chugging along, it’s not too dark to review. My kids read this. My grandparents read this, for crying out loud. I have to cap my mouth constantly around the house (my parents called me Mouth sometimes when I was little.) The time it takes for me to think a sentence and actually type it gives a little extra second to consider the value of what I’m saying.
“…out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” Matthew 12:34
Though I keep things light, my feet really are planted on the freshly tilled and composted ground (that’s was a funny.) Truly , I have no illusions about how “interesting” my little hobbies are to anyone outside of me. This is just me, plain old me, trying to have fun being me, nothing brilliant.