Last night I finished it. With shameless tears streaming and snot running and a few ugly snorts I finished reading their story. I realized something -- our stories are important. Our lives have significance. If we fail to record it all, no one else will ever know about how beautiful and sometimes hard it was. Today I'll call my grandpa and tell him thank you -- I needed that reminder.
I used to blog all the time. More people were reading/posting blogs and I only had one, two then three kids. Now it's hard to find the time. But it is important. If I do nothing else, I want to tell my story for my kids and their kids and so on. We are all connected and can learn from each other. My grandpa's book included several entries from my grandma's journals. Even though she's physically gone now it was as if she were speaking again. Records give voices to the dead. I don't want my story to die with me.
More to come. I'm resolving to writing things down and include pictures more often. Because there is nothing more important to me than these people:
Finally -- my grandpa's book reminded me that I come from a family who can do hard things. We are not afraid to work, we are not afraid to try. We do not give up. We have faith in God and we put family first. So even if I look bigger than I'd like or my hair is messier than I like or my kids clothes are dirtier than I like -- I'm posting it. We are real people with real problems but we also have a beautiful, happy life. I do not want to forget these years. They are fantastic and really really hard.
Our family motto for this year:
We can do hard things.
My grandma would've liked it.