Write Your Story

I wish every human could be seen through closed eyes.
It's what you see when you are not actively looking at hair, skin, lips, that tells you who they are.
Confused? Judging me? Let's try it, as an example.

When I look at my husband, I see beautiful blue eyes, a whitening dyed beard, a fresh haircut, and at our home, an old t-shirt and the sherpa slippers I bought for him.
When I close my eyes, I see a man. He strives to do his best in his work and his home, but most important to him is to be a good father to his two children. He's tired. He works hard bringing home our only income. He plans and hopes for our best future, but isn't entirely sure what that will look like. Still, not knowing, he keeps his pace. He does all of this for our family.

You see?
I try to see people this way as often as I can. Seeing another requires a calmness in my breathing. I need to be baseline happy at minimum, and not frantic about my to-do list.

Not too many months ago, I was all dressed up at a work party of my husband's. He waved another man over to introduce him to me, and I could see this man. It wasn't his plaid suit coat or his tie. I saw him through his face---and I couldn't tell you exactly what those details were, but I felt like I should hug him. So of course, I did, which was socially unexpected at that moment, but surprisingly not awkward. I think my husband used the word 'genuine' later.

Yesterday I returned from a writer's conference, which was less about the writer and more about the biz, but still a good time. The woman who was tasked with cleaning my hotel room---I forgot to get her name!---was thorough and friendly and kind. I don't think she knew how appreciative I was that she had mopped my floor and cleaned my bathroom. I opened my room door and smelled cleaning products, saw the floor shining. I turned back to the hallway to thank her. I don't think I thanked her enough. It felt like she had done this for me. One of the reasons we go to conferences is to get a break from our lives, to grow appreciation and love for those in our circles by having a little distance. I had rented this space to be mine for just a few days, and I think she did more than she was being paid to do. On the morning that I left, she and I talked for a while out on the sidewalk. She told me a bit about her life, and I asked questions, wanting to know more. I offered to edit and publish her story onto Amazon, which is what I am doing currently for my friend Kate.

Everyone has a great story. At times, reading their stories let's you see into their soul.

I got the idea from my excellent friend Brenda, to write stories for women who could use a little  posture, lift, strength, validation. In this case, though, these people would be lifting themselves by testifying. I'll proudly stand behind them.

What do you write?

 (Taken from our family blog, accessed at tabs above, from my post in 2010.)

Ahem.

It has come to my attention that blogs can be used for all kinds of purposes.

  It is so completely obvious that our family's blog is the rosy, perfect facade

 of the peaks of our lives.  True, it's good to let everyone know how we are,

 what is happening (like the Christmas Letters) but there is so much more.

  I've seen so many uses for a blog---family business, venting,

 speaking out on issues...even therapy.  Like journaling.

Which leads me to the question of the day.

So what do you put in your journal? 

 The rosy perfect stuff, so your grandkids

 will think they came from perfect stock

 (and thus feel unworthy, or possibly make them reach higher...)

 or do you tell THE REAL DEAL? 

 I have stacks of journals

 starting when I was 12ish, some with tear stains,

 a few pages with blood on them.

  I've considered abridging them into one perfect personal history...

but this question of authenticity has been preventing progression.

I've always been a realist kind of a person.  Some dislike it, others really appreciate it.

  But I do it for me.

  Being honest and not wearing a mask has been my mantra for years.

  Let's face it, lots of Mormon people wear masks.  And non-Mormon too, of course.

  But as I get older, will I?