Such a strange phenomenon. Everyone has the same number of hours in a day, and we all chose to use those hours in unique ways. I've always been intrigued by the idea that while time is limited now, it is limitless in the grand scheme of things. So why is it so important to learn how to manage time? If all things are brought to our remembrance in the next life, why are we admonished to write things down?
When I was a young child, time seemed to stand still. I remember watching the second hand of the classroom clock tick off each moment before the recess bell finally rang. The week before birthdays and Christmas's brought torturous, yet sweet, anticipation. I couldn't wait to be a teenager and learn to drive and have a job. What was I thinking? Now time evades me. I can't seem to ever find enough. Where is all the extra time that everyone told me I would have when all of our children were in school? The last fledgling is ready to leave the nest and I have yet to find a second of that mythical extra time.
Somewhere in my browsing through social media I came across a blog that suggested reading through past journals and highlighting key words - the idea being that I would discover a theme and learn what my life's mission is meant to be. Or something like that. Anyway, the idea tickled my curiosity. Part of me held back. My older, wiser, more experienced, internal editor cringed at the thought of reading what my younger self wrote. I vaguely recalled that my teen entries talked mostly about food and boys. I decided to compromise and start my reading halfway through my first journal. Here is a snippet of what I opened to:
As a small child, I never thought I would actually reach the year I would turn twenty-five years old. This week, the astronauts even traveled in space away from their ship - only done in science fiction stories before. Amazing! My fourth child is due to be born soon. It has been a difficult pregnancy. Thank goodness I have a loving, supportive husband. Amy, Kenneth, and Kati are growing so quickly. Kati is being potty trained this week. Amy is very sensitive and a lot like myself.
April 9, 1984I regret that it took me ten years to fill that early journal. Now I can fill a journal in six months. Hmmm...I guess that's where some of that extra time is hiding. I marvel at the number of things I had forgotten about: treasures of wisdom from the mouth of babes, service from a friend, and memories of pot luck dinners with neighbors. I know I missed writing down a lot of special moments. That said, I am very happy to be able to look back and see how my testimony of the Savior has grown through tests and trials and joyous moments. I think that is one of the reasons we are told to record those special moments of discovery and revelation. To be a reminder, a help and a guide to me during future challenges and to strengthen those who come after me.
I feel so happy and full of thanks today. I must record the events of the last few months. My son, Jared Douglas Pike was born March 6. He has a great deal of jet black hair and he has blue eyes. He has a darling dimple in his chin, like his father, therefore the reason for using part of his father's name. With the help of modern medicine the birth was fairly easy. It could have been very difficult. The other children have welcomed Jared very nicely. They try so hard to be sweet and gentle with him. Kenneth told his Primary teacher that he would bring his new baby to class only if it was a little brother. Kenneth says, "I knew it was going to be a boy, Mom." "I love my brother, Mom." Kenneth came to the cradle and gave his treasured white blanket to his little brother "to keep him warm." Amy is a little mother and can sit for an hour holding Jared. Before Jared's birth, Amy liked to rub my back and "care" for me. She even reminded me of my temper when she told me she was cleaning up a mess so that I "wouldn't go into early labor about it." [She had just turned five-years-old.]
What has been your biggest challenge in keeping your own history?
Don't forget - Life is magnificent!