Our family Christmas party is now just a warm memory, my Christmas preparations are complete, and now I am living in the pause before the celebration of our Lord’s birth. The birth that brought hope into this broken world. The book I wrote for family has been given into the hands of the younger generations. An imperfect book, like me, but written to give a glimpse into my years as a child.
I could have gone into much deeper detail, and yes, I left some things unwritten. Some because I didn’t think about them until after the writing was completed, and some because they were things that might tarnish beloved memories.
As I sit here this morning, I think of how I should have taken time to write the little short memories into a short story of its own. I’m a writer I know how to show and not tell. Yet, this book doesn’t do much of that.
I grew up in a time different from today. We had outdoor bathrooms, and pumped water from a well. We took baths without having a tub to sit in or a shower to stand under. We lived on little, yet never realized we were poor. This is what I wanted my grandchildren to know. And I wanted them to know that my childhood wasn’t ideal. I came from a broken home, and was separated from my brother and sister when we were basically babies. We grew up in different states, but today we are bonded in a way we should have been as children. I can honestly say everything in my life could have been much worse…but God.
And now, as I rest in these quieter days before Christmas, I give thanks for all that has happened to me in the past, for the trials prepared me to empathize with others and let them know they are not alone. And I have come through the journey stronger, as they will.
I close this blog with a happy and hopeful heart for the future for my children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. I pray for blessings, healing, and for love to overcome hate. I pray for those who are living in the pause to feel peace.