The Aged Candy Box

This is the box my mother gave me in 2005. Inside were three letters written in pencil on lined notebook paper. They were sent by my father when he was in the Navy and shortly before he was killed by a Kamikaze pilot in a battle in the Philippine Islands.

I know this must have been a box filled with candy that he gave her. Once I found her sitting on the floor with this box, holding a picture and crying. I was around 10 years old. She handed me a picture, which was also inside the box, and told me it was my dad. She said he was the love of her life.

This will be included in the book I’m writing this winter. As I dig into history, I’m finding more information about his family. I never really knew them. I also didn’t know my biological grandparents on my mother’s side, only her aunt and uncle who adopted her after their deaths. I loved my grandma and grandpa a lot. I’ll be including stories of growing up with them in the book as well. So many stories to be told. I don’t want the history to die with me as most of it did with my mother.

Lifting my cup of tea and thanking God for the gift of opening history for me and showing me glimpses of life in the past. Often I’ve thought of writing a fictional book about my parents, weaving a love story during World War II. Maybe, if God is willing, that will come to fruition.

Lifting my cup of tea and wishing you all a day to think about your history and if you have shared enough with your family to be passed down through generations. God is good!

Emotional Research, Writing, and Blessings

Researching history for the book I’m writing to leave for my family has been very emotionally draining. My father was killed during the Battle of Ormoc Bay when a kamikaze pilot struck the USS Liddle, the ship he was on. He was just a few weeks shy of his 20th birthday. Finding a picture of him standing on the ship with other seamen really stuck me deeply. I am very excited to know that one day I will meet him in heaven. Funny how I disliked history and geography when I was in school. Now it is very interesting to me. I’m looking forward to spending the colder winter months working on this project, God willing!

The day has finally chased the darkness at 8:10am. There is little happening outside my office window. All is calm. The porch lights are still on and the sky is not lit by the sun. Yet, God has given a new day and I’m grateful for life and all this day might bring. Lifting my cup of tea and offering a prayer for God to smile upon our country, bless His children, and heal us as only He can.

Sunrise, Sunset, the Colors of Life

I love when the sun is rising and just kisses the tops of the trees around my condo! God’s promise and His smile shining through the darkness. A new day has dawned, a new gift for which to give thanks.

Last week I said goodbye to another son, a son of my heart. He was a teenager when he came into my life, the best friend of one of my bonus sons. The loss of his earthly presence is deeply felt. Death is so painful and I long for the day when there will be no more death. My heart is sad for his mother, for no parent should have to go through the pain of their child’s death. As you read this, if you are led, please lift her in prayer for healing and peace.

Most of my time this week was spent working on the biographical book. The first chapter is in rough draft form…very rough! I pulled out a scrapbook I started seven years ago with pictures from my growing up years. I’ve been thinking about removing the pictures and making copies so I can make one for each of my daughters. I’m not sure how well the pictures will fit into the book. I will need to do some research on how to import them. I’m happy to be working on this winter project. Each of our lives are filled with different colors depending on how we view life.

I had a fun time yesterday after church. My daughters treated me to lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant in celebration of my upcoming birthday.

As for hobbies, I colored two pictures and finished a puzzle. I also read two books and I’ve started a third. The television was rarely in use.

This coming week, I’m looking forward to my bonus granddaughter’s wedding, overnight visits with my grandson and his girlfriend, and my youngest daughter singing in church. I will also age another year on Sunday. God willing, I will turn 78. Each day is a gift for which I’m thankful. Lifting my cup of tea with a wish that everyone reading this will be blessed with good health and prosperity. Until next time…

So Many Stories Have Died

This is my grandfather. He was my mother’s paternal uncle who adopted her at five years old after the death of her parents. The people at the top are my great grandmother and great grandfather. This is a picture of a soldier going to serve his country during World War I. This picture brings back memories of a childhood with many ups and downs.

My winter’s project is to look through all the old pictures I own and piece together a book of memories and stories that will be lost one day. So many stories have died with the past, never to rise again. I don’t want to lose this heritage for my children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Sometimes I look at pictures of me when I was young and think back on all that has transpired throughout my life. There never was a time God didn’t have His hand on me, though at many critical times in my life I didn’t realize He was there.

My life is like a movie that has resonated with me, recalling scenes, both happy and sad. Maybe my family won’t be interested in reading about my life, about times in the past, but perhaps someday when they are my age, they will. And maybe it will trigger in them a passion to capture their lives in writing too.

The passion to write this final book is burning brightly in my soul. It’s like a calling. And so, with a little fear, I say yes. I will step out of my comfort zone and believe God has given me the skills to write the story with passion in an interesting way.

Lifting my cup of tea with joy in my heart and a thankful shout to the Lord for His goodness and mercy to me, a sinful woman.