dusty journals

I dream of finding a dusty journal hidden in a wooden box beneath a large oak tree that holds history of generations that have gone before me. Pages filled with memories, journeys, experiences, emotions, love lost, love found. Pearls of wisdom passing down through generations.

I heard a story of a grandmother who found her grandson's journal in a box, that was ready to be thrown out. She reads it from start to finish, and weeps. And then reads it again, and weeps some more. Tears of joy stream down her cheeks as she discovers the truth about the journey of her grandson and his steps to becoming the incredible godly man he is today. A new found respect, and love. 

I have journalled about my own personal walk through life since I could write. I try to capture the journey of my two sons, as much as time allows. I started a journal for my oldest, before he was even conceived, then journalling through my pregnancy, his first hours in the world and recording all the funny things he now says and does. 

Looking at the pages of some old vintage books I found in storage, dating back to 1914, it dawned on me that pages discolour, fade, and fall by the wayside. Things are changing. And I guess I need to keep up-to-date with how the world is evolving. And in all honestly, I find it a rather slow process to handwrite on paper. I've always wanted to blog, but never found anything in particular that I wanted to blog about. Im not one that has a passion for fashion, cooking, nor photography; but I do have a desire to share & capture my story, and hope that with ever-changing technology, that someday, somehow, my children's children will be able to read endless pages (or 'posts') about my journey, and discover a little more about who I was, what I stood for and what I learnt along the way.

And who knows, while I am still on this earth, and learning each day, you as the reader may pick up a pearl as I weave the string through each experience along the way.