Journal Writer

I bet you aren't surprised to learn that I was a journal writer when I was young. I started writing my first real journal in 1979. I was in the 6th grade and Grandma gave me a five-subject red notebook and a red pen. I wrote in that journal every single day until the pages ran out and then I got a real bound journal from Deseret Book (and another red pen).

I wrote a lot of stupid stuff about boys and school and you know what? I had pretty much the same life 30 years ago as I do now.

    March 8, 1983
    Today's been hectic. I think I finished almost everything that's due tomorrow.
     I'm really having a hard time staying on top of everything. I never get any sleep any more.
     I have a history test tomorrow, I think. I hope I can pass because I haven't done any intensive
     studying. I think I did pretty good on my Children's Lit final. I guess I'll know on Tuesday.

I never missed a day after that through all of my single life and well into my married one. In fact, when Bossy and the Gym Rat were babies I got them their own journals and then I wrote in three journals a day for a while (sadly, not a very long while). It was just too hard to keep up being a young mom, going to school, teaching classes, and taking care of a household.

Oh, I tried to write on special occasions, the birth of a child or something momentous in my life, but my everyday habit was gone.

About seven years ago, I was teaching a group of Young Women in church and my lesson assignment was on journal writing. It had been a long time since I had written. I'm pretty sure I'd even missed some baby births, choosing instead to write in their baby books rather than my journal. I was feeling pretty hypocritical about trying to convince the girls to keep journals when I was not being a good example.

So I pulled out my book and began writing. It was May, 2006. Life was still busy and crazy and I really didn't have time, but it's amazing what a little guilt will do. I wrote three entries in May and off and on during the first part of June. Then on June 21, I realized why I had been assigned a lesson in journal-writing. It wasn't for the girls...it was for me.

     June 21, 2006
     My mom died tonight. It seems so weird to write those words. In fact, the whole thing seems
     rather surreal. My dad called this morning and said they were losing her, pick up Amy from the
     airport and come down. Amy's flight came in at 4:15 but after fighting traffic it was almost 6:30
     when we got there. She was never really awake. Her eyes were open for a while, but about 8:00
     she slipped into a coma and her breathing slowed way down. Gary and his family were coming in
     from New Mexico and they were about 15 minutes away when she died. Her actual death was
     quiet and gentle. We didn't even realize she was gone.

That's why I try to blog every day. We just never know when a day will turn out to be the most memorable day of our lives. It might be nothing but the same old crazy life, but it might be something we want to remember forever. I just don't want to miss anything...