Monday, August 29, 2011


I keep a journal.  I like to get up early in the morning before the kids get up.  I go downstairs, pour myself a big glass of water and then head back up to my bed.  I get settled in, pull out my spiral ring notebook and begin.  Somedays my mind is fuzzy and my words few.  Other days I am amazed at my writing ability - I want everyone to read it because, in my opinion anyway,  it's good stuff.

One of my favorite things to do is grab old journals out of my closet and read through them.  It's amazing to see how things have changed, how I've changed, how Farmer Boy and I have matured together.  What seemed so traumatic when the kids were little, simply makes me smile now.

Sunday morning I got up before anyone else.  I grabbed my journal and headed to the living room.  The sun was just coming up, I could hear the crickets singing their steady song, and I could feel the cool morning air swimming through the window. A magical moment to be sure. I flipped to the beginning of my current journal and in an instant I had stepped back in time to exactly one year ago.

Miss Liz broke her wrist exactly one year ago yesterday.  The initial accident happened on a Sunday, we couldn't see a doctor until Monday.  Farmer Boy left that Monday morning for a week.  At the doctor we got the news that Lizzy needed surgery that day.  We didn't get home until 11:00 p.m.  I was tired, worried about Lizzy, and just a little frazzled with Farmer Boy gone.

The next night we got four inches of rain after a summer of rain and storms that had done this.

The previous week, I had finally gotten cleaned up from the original storm.  Our carpet was finally laid, the furniture was back in place, and I had put pictures back up on the wall. Four inches of rain in one night was just too much.  The rain came in, again.  My newly laid carpet was once again squishy, my family pictures got wet.  Farmer Boy was gone.  Now I was past frazzled.  My journal holds secret words of anger and frustration that might scare my children or my husband. It's good to get it out somewhere.

I'm glad we have not had the same kind of events this year.  I remember feeling afraid to stand up straight after that week.  I thought something might fall from the heavens and land on my head.  It took a while to recoup from the events of last summer. My journal records it all.

I'm currently reading a book about Mother Teresa.  It's called "Suffering Into Joy".  She was an amazing woman of God.

While I was reminiscing, these words from Mother Teresa danced and sang just for me.

Just keep the joy of Jesus as your strength.  Be happy and at peace.  Accept whatever he gives - and give whatever he takes with a big smile.  You belong to him.


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