Why Blog? My (Very) Personal Reason

I spend a lot of time drinking coffee.  Iced, hot, strong, weak, Starbucks, Mr. Coffee or even International Delight (a holdover from my teenage years)--it really doesn't matter to me.  I have also been known to snarl slightly at anyone trying to swipe, sip, or piously criticize my Diet Coke.  But hey, hear me out: I need the pick me up.  We're at that tedious phase where my 21-month-old flies right into traffic, singlehandledly opens the front door when no one is looking, joyfully knocks over careful stacks of laundry, and shoots up the bunk bed ladder and rains down big brother's carefully placed trophies off the nearby shelf.

It's a tiring proposition, raising five kids.

So why would I add a single other thing to my already-busy life?  Why force another cup of caffeine into an already shaky hand?  Why in heaven's name would I be sitting at the computer, as I currently am, at 2:25am?

Simply put: why the blog, lady?

Let me rule out a few reasons. For one, I am not trying to project an image of togetherness (insert laugh, close friends), flaunt my limited writing skills, nor do I claim any superiority in my opinions.  I am fully aware of how mixed-up and poorly thought through numerous aspects of my life are, including but not limited to: my dated wardrobe, my limited ability to accessorize without my stylish sister's help, my general haphazard appearance and beauty products that might assist said appearance, my opinionated parenting technique, and even (gasp!) micro-aspects of my theology.

No, the real reason is this:

back row: Evelyn, JD, Virgil, Cleamon, and Laura Wilmalou (my Lala)
front row: Mimi and Clyde Elmo Pinner, my great-grandparents
(Unrelated: it's an undisputed fact that there were some serious slim pickins in the family name barrel.)

The five children standing in this picture are my relatives.  My grandmother is on the far right, the lovely lady who bravely raised my mother on a remote cotton farm in West Texas. And all five of these beautiful people had Alzheimer's Disease or severe dementia that is currently or eventually led to their demise.

And I suspect, as much as I pray against it, that my future is tied up in these genes and this related inevitability: one day I am going to forget.

And as much as my Lala loves her grands, she is now reduced to only remembering my third child, her namesake, who she no longer calls by her own name, instead loosely and lovingly as "that little girl".

Sadly, sometimes love itself is not enough to help one remember.

And before my day comes, even if it is many decades away, there are a few things that I want to process, review, organize, and articulate.  In writing, I find a way to seal my thoughts to words, words that will remain long after I can no longer remember writing them.  I desperately don't want to miss this chance to share with my children and those I love dearly the personal impressions, sometimes-feeble observations, but most especially the undercurrent of love and tender gratitude I feel for this often-chaotic, frequently amazing, incredibly satisfying life that the good Lord has given me.

So have patience on me when my eyebags look darker and droopier than ever. There's a greater mission on my heart than publishing a blog post.  And I hope in some small way this humble space will leave a legacy in the face of loss, so that if/when that loss comes, a part of the real me remains.

So thanks for reading, y'all.

~ ~ ~

Teach us to number our days, 

so that we may gain 

a heart of wisdom.  

Psalm 90:12