I grew up in a home rich with family heritage. My mom loved genealogy and knew how to breathe life into dusty documents and color to faded black and white photos - my mom told me stories.
As a grown woman with five children of my own, I've tried to do the same. For years I did it through scrapbooking. But it didn't take long to realize that it wasn't my artistic skills my children really cared about. They never stopped on a page and said, "Mom, you matched that paper to my shirt - perfectly!" Nope. What they did say as they leaned across my lap, pointing at photos is, "Tell me the story!" "Tell me mom about the day I was born... Tell me mom about the day I cried when everyone sang me happy birthday... Tell me mom about my grandma and her garden..."
Don't worry if you haven't done it forever, just start today. The consistency and cumulative effect of one good question - just sharing one story a day, adds up.
Ok, I accept the fact that soon everyone will be writing posts about chilly days, sharpened pencils and the beauty of routine and order. But just for today, can it still be summer!
Lanell and I wasted no time. We stood up, found a corner of the wallpaper that would lift a little, and just started tearing. Some of it came off in big, chunky strips, others were tiny shreds we picked at. I didn't think about it as tearing away my childhood. I was just making room for the emerging young adult.
Love Story - A New Chapter To Our Family's Story
This Spring, my daughter married the man of her dreams. I'd say it was months worth of planning, but in reality, I was surprised to find out, it was really a lifetime of planning that went into their special day.
“Tell me, you are not throwing that out.” I should just record myself saying that and play it as I go through my friends' and sisters' homes. Or at this point, I probably don't even need to say it out loud anymore. I'm pretty sure they know my love for old wood, formerly-loved boxes and tins and all buttons and broken jewelry.
Just because its Mother's Day, I'm not going to pretend my mom was perfect. Because seriously, she was no angel.
New gardening gloves are part of my Springtime ritual. As soon as the tiny green leaves of my hyacinths poke up through the soil, I know Spring is here.
When St. Patrick's Day rolls around, do you ever wonder if there's an Irish line or two in your family's story?
I'm LUCKY enough... are you? Along with almost 40 million other Americans, I consider myself LUCKY to have Irish ancestors. One of my Irish ancestors, in particular, became very important to me at the age of 18.
I'm not a fan of New Year's Resolutions. There, I said it out loud.