words

You don’t have to be around me long to know how proud I am of my daughters and their families.

A bit ago our nurse daughters wrote this letter to me. I asked her if I could use it I my blog. I wanted to share her words. Lora is an RN who works 12 hour shifts, at night. She has done this for years. She is a very good nurse.

Dear Dad,

I'm up unusually late for my night off. Though I work night shifts, I try to be a “normal person” on my days off. This evening, however, I'm up "spending time" with you on your blog. Also unusual for me. Blogs have not become my routine. (I will say how I LOVED reading everything you’ve written, Dad. Please don’t stop!)
 
Since I’m not a blog person, I’m intrigued that though I've "always been a writer" I do not even journal. I do write, of course, to think, learn and share, but my "think writing" is lists, decisions, processes, work, function, what we got from our last marriage counseling session etc, but not daily musings, ramblings or thoughts. And weeks go between. Why? Why don't I journal? What about a blog?
 
My first thought is about privacy. I think, "Yeah, I have years worth of paper journals that make me cringe and cry when I read them. Why cause that for myself later?" I’m not ready to lay words (my heart?) out for (possibly) no one or anyone to get ahold of – even myself. I do that well enough the old-fashioned talk talk way!
 
My next thought is about lazy. I am a self-proclaimed hard working lazy person. Sometimes that means I am lazy and busy at it. Sometimes it means (like the working women I am related to) I am working hard though my heart cries for lazy!
 
My third thought is priorities. I would rather do pictures and figure out things. Unless it is going to help me process something, than I won't take the time for it - Lord knows I have enough to figure out already! And I don’t have time to write about everything I’m working on, either. Mercy.
 
Actually, I love the idea of writing more, but also love the idea (head thing) of knitting, learning cello, painting, and building a new house - but the get-down-and-do-it (hand thing) is either not appealing enough or simply not happening... Maybe it is the phase of my life!?

I know your mother wrote a maximum of 3 sentences in her daily diaries, and never do you get emotion in those. Well, I'm not that kind of writer, either. But she was a practical woman, laid out her pictures in the books with dates and notes. I pray for the spunk that she had. Maybe I'm like her in many ways, hope, hope.

Interestingly, in the writing arena (as I told my 18-year-old firstborn college freshman son), he has clearly been gifted. He did not get much training from his lifetime homeschool, though he along with 3 other students enjoy their writing teacher (who has a reputation for being very hard). This teacher has told these 4 that he holds them to a higher level of accountability than the others in class - because he knows they can do the work. We hear Alan's report on why he got a B instead of an A on the last paper: one missed spelling word, a theme not well developed... He’s a very good sport about it, and it is not his major.

"See!" we say to the younger three now-much-better-taught-wanna-be-writing-students. "It is important to learn how to spell and write well!" One of the children asks "Do they have spelling classes in college?" To which I say, "No, they just dock you points on your writing if you make mistakes!"
 
Alan loves his writing class, enjoyed speech last quarter, is a communicator in many ways. This makes me smile, and I think, "See, I don't have to be a blogger or journaler right now! I'll just (accidently?) pass on this gift to my kids!” Maybe it is like the pipe organ that I gave up before having kids: now is the time to pass the keyboard/writing torch, and my organ shoes/computer will be there when the children have moved out on their own.

Meanwhile, now that I’ve written all that, I feel just a bit more patient with myself. :o) And maybe I’ll write now and then, just for me.

I love you, Dad!

Lora