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Posts Tagged ‘sharing’

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Almost four years ago, a friend told me she thought I should write a blog. So I did (this is a rare instance when I did what I was told).

Almost nine hundred followers later, today marks the publication of the one thousandth post at itsawonderfilledlife … wow!

For the past four years I have rambled on about pretty much any stray thought that has passed through my consciousness.

I have been motivated to write by everything from pooh bags, to phrases, to people, to places, to philosophical thought.

I have shared my walks, my work, my MiniWheats (a term of endearment that students use to refer to my kids), and my love of wonder.

I have shared the classroom of my life, on this site, and how I contemplate all that is confusing, inspirational, and motivating about How Deep the Father’s Love is … for me, for we.

I have shared joys, sorrows, celebrations, successes and my loves.

After one thousand posts of bleeding out my digressing thoughts and life before anyone to see and read, what’s the point?

Has it been about dreams of a multi-million dollar book deal? Yup! Who would not dream of such a dream? And, considering my grammatical skills (?) and inability to write a rough copy (ever), that dream will continue to live on … in my dreams.

Has it been about having something to say? Yup! I have been writing blog posts all of my life … in my mind. This venue allows me the space to get my thoughts out, without (much) digression from what I had hoped to communicate. I struggle to communicate clearly when face to face (I am just not great at thinking on my feet). I feel more confident when the only thing staring at me is what I have written, and erased, and re-written, and erased, and …

Has it been about having something to share? Yup! It seems that the things I am most unsure about sharing, the things that rattle in my head, while my fingers hang about the computer keys, are the things that resonate with readers the most. I truly believe, and believe it even more so since writing this blog, that if we are feeling, thinking or experiencing something, there are others who have, are or will be sharing in those things. I believe it was C. S. Lewis who said, we read to know that we are not alone … perhaps we write to know that we are not alone, as well.

One thousand posts … may I continue to learn that, in blessing and curse, it truly is a wonder-filled life.

“Lord, you are my God;
I will exalt you and praise your name,
for in perfect faithfulness
you have done wonderful things,
things planned long ago.”
Isaiah 25:1

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IMG_1400.JPGYou entered the world, and immediately turned mine up-side-down.

That day, you were handed to my open arms, and you were mine.

Now, at twenty-two, and a Psychology major, hearing that you were born into a possessive relationship might make you want to enter into therapy … as a patient.

I can assure you that our relationship got even more possessive, in the years to come. And now, somehow we have reached the point where you like to refer to me as not having time for you … maybe the possessive qualities of our relationship have altered direction (that ought to give both of us reason for therapy!).

According to our friends at Wikipedia, “Possession is nine-tenths of the law is an expression meaning that ownership is easier to maintain if one has possession of something, or difficult to enforce if one does not.”

And, as a newborn baby, you were possessed by myself, and your dad.

Now, if possession didn’t confirm ownership, appearance would cover the other one tenth. You were a visual reflection of your parents. To some a mirror image of myself, to others that of your father. I would say you are an image of the two of us.

There was nothing better, when you were first born, than to look at you. The very sight of you struck awe and wonder in my heart.

That first Sunday at church, when you were surrounded by eager arms, I wanted to hold you close and turn my back on those who would force me to share my possession …

but, I shared.

That first date out, after your birth, which your dad had arranged a dear friend to care for you, I just wanted to say no, and keep your snuggles and baby smell all to myself …

but, I shared.

That first time we didn’t know where you were, in a crowded shopping mall, because one of the girls of youth group passed you to another, I wanted to lock you and I up in our house, and never have to face that fear again …

but, I shared.

The day I took you to preschool, because you begged to go to ‘cool’, I really wanted to stay with you, but your teacher walked me to the door, and said the other children were excited to get to know you …

so, I shared.

And the sharing continued, and continues still.

Now, twenty-two years later, I realize so clearly that I really have never possessed you. From before you took your first breath, before even your heart made it’s first thump-thump, you were a child of the breath-giver.

As I look back at your first twenty-two years, as I look forward, at the appointed ones to come, I am reminded that my main job is not to possess you … but to hand you back into the loving care of the One who teaches us to share.

“I will be a father to you,
and you will be my sons and daughters,
says the Lord Almighty.”

2 Corinthians 6:8

 

 

 

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As we walked down the streets of the village, the warm autumn sun shining brightly, stepping into and out of shops that caught our eye, I felt such a profound sense of thankfulness for this friend at my side. At one point, I introduced her to someone as my friend, and a realization filled my heart … I have a friend.

We have only known of each other for a bit more than two years, but my dependence on her in my life makes it seem like we have been friends since the beginning of time. We met through my oldest daughter who coached her kids, and had become friends with their mom, through swimming. I feel a bit like I stole this lady out from under my daughters sight.

I love her wit, her sarcasm, and her passion for anything she sets her mind to. I am excited for her, as she works towards her Masters degree, in education. I love that our friendship is one, not just of female conversation, but of just being comfortable and content to be together, whether over coffee, while grocery shopping or watching our kids swim together.

Her children are still in elementary school, and they bring back the joy of shrieking and giggling into my life. She even has fantastic taste in names, as she has a Little Ben, and I the Big Ben (considering her hubby’s height, I look forward to seeing if their titles stay, or switch, as they grow). Her daughter is a bright and focused first born, who loves books and pretty things. Her hubby is a good man, who loves his family and works a job that exhibits his care for community as a firefighter.

Although I do love their family as a whole (and get that mid-life-crises mama feeling of joy when her son and daughter wrap their arms around my neck), it is my friend who I love the most.

With her, I feel no need to ‘be’ someones mom or wife. My only ‘role’ is that of friend. I am not expected to open up and share my every inner thought and feeling, nor do I feel the need to have her reveal hers. We truly, simply, enjoy spending time together. Although I have never had a sister, I wonder if this relationship is what it is like to have a life-long, blood-related girl sibling.

For years I have struggled with having time for friends. Our life is so busy, that I have often felt as though I needed to guard my every spare moment for my hubby and kids. I have struggled with feeling that perhaps friendships within the church (hubby’s workplace) are due more to my hubby’s role. These struggles, I see now, are mine, and ones that I need to overcome.

This friend is not a friend from church, not a friend from a situation, it is like she was hand placed, at my side, by the One who knew I needed her in my life. I am thankful for her … so very thankful, and believe that we were placed at each others side for such a time as this.

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One of the blogs I recently read, although short, was to the point, and a good reminder.

The following is the self description of the author of this blog:

“My name is Laura Flett.  I taught for 30 years in the public schools, retiring to become a writer.  That was in 2001.   I now teach part time at a local college and in two after school programs.  And I write, a lot.  Morning pages begin the day, a writing group in the middle of the week,  three loyal writing buddies, and this new adventure, blogging.  OK, so I’m a writer. I also know the power of writing.  My only child committed suicide when he was 27 years old.  My life was turned upside down.  All I trusted at that point was my pen and notebook.  So I journaled.  Constantly.  My book, WritingToward the Light, found at www.eaglewingspress.com, is a description of that journey.”

Laura offers beautifully honest writings, always “starting with a quote.”

Itstartedwithaquote

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