The Written Word - Powerful

After my mother died, I longed for, and hunted to no avail, in search of something that she may have written that could give her children a miniscule glimpse of her inner most thoughts.  I would have accepted this from any chapter in her life.  Confirmed instead, is that - she enjoyed reading far above writing.  Walls of books were to be divided among family members or given away, but just like she rarely ever mailed a card to us, (and when she did, she only signed it,) Mom seemed to keep no written record of her thoughts.  No Bible study writings, no journal.  Nothing.

I gave little thought to the written word for many years of my life.  Actually that's not completely accurate.  When I was younger, I kept a poetry journal - but it was in a purse that was stolen, and when that happened, it seemed to momentarily rob me of my creative writing ability.  A few years later, I wrote again, this time songs.  A relationship with an unnamed person in a band peaked my writing interest again.  Sadly for me, one day he walked off with a spiral pad of paper (with lyrics tucked inside,) to band practice.  He chose to amuse his fellow band mates when he came across my songs in what should have been my private notebook.  He let me know this the next time we saw each other.  Ego shattered, I dropped my pen, only using it for work purposes, or an occasional card in the mail - with not much more than a signature.  I became like my mother. 

I didn't realize what had happened immediately.  Yes, when I thought back about those experiences, my bruises felt fresh, but I never gave a thought to the importance of writing my husband anything more than a quick grocery list, or signing cards for each of our children.  I was known to scribble underline notations on sentiments that I liked, or draw I Love You signs - with an eye, heart, and sheep on cards given to my children. All through the childhood of our older 2, I do not believe that I wrote more than a few sentences on any occasion.  With my mom alive, I had not yet thought deep enough about the power of the written word. 

Mom's leaving us made my desire to get to know more about her increase.  I longed to have something other than "stuff" to cling to as a reminder of who she was.  At some point, I have no idea when, but it occurred  to me that I too - would have nothing profound to leave my children if I didn't pick up a pen and write.  Times change - the pen has became a keyboard.  Alas...  the blog began.  I've left it many times - as life and other things got in the way.  I've written on many topics that no one will ever care about, but hopefully, prayerfully, it will one day help my children "know" me better.

This morning, as I continued in the task of cleaning out my mega monster closet, (had I mentioned that yet?) I ran across a note on the back of a card sent to me by my Gramma over 25 years ago.  One day she will be a blog focus, because she was absolutely an integral part of my life, but for today, I will just speak about her written word.  It was the only note I believe that I ever received in the mail from her.  It wasn't long, but she wrote beautifully - not only was her handwriting uniquely exquisite, (she used a fountain pen,) but she spoke in her note, with ease - just sharing about a few things going on in her life at that moment.  With maybe 10 sentences on the back of a card, reading it again today, I learned more about my Gramma.  Today I can say that I know who she was better--- not profoundly, but it was heartwarming to feel a connection to her once again.  I am so very thankful for the time that Gramma took to share her words with me 25+ years later.  It's a encouraging reminder to keep picking up my pen.  It's true.  The written word is powerful.