Many years ago I read a book by Edith Schaeffer called Hidden Art. Schaeffer talked about creating memories for our children.
Now my grandchildren provide memories for me that find their way into my journals and into my heart. Many make me laugh. Some bring tears. All touch my heart.
For example, I got to church one Sunday and sat with my daughter's family. I asked Stephen where his daddy was. "He's being a mushroom" was his answer. I thought I had misunderstood him and asked what he said. "Grandma Pat, I said he's being a mushroom."
I finally received an explation from his mom. He was trying to tell me that his dad was ushering.
Another funny one from my journal was one Thomas misunderstood. When it's raining you need an under brella.
Then there was the time Bethani, just a toddler, couldn't stay away from the phone. I would take her away, tell her "That's a no-no," and try to divert her attention in another direction. When I this routine grew old, I started smacking her hand. One day while I cleaned up after lunch before putting her down for a nap, I heard the recorder. "You have two new messages."
She was at it again. I went to the living room. She faced away from me. Not wanting to scare her, I very quietly said, "Bethani." She jumped, threw the phone across the room and smacked her own hand. I hurried out of the room to laugh.
Then there was Joey, the five-year-old preacher. His mom overheard him talking with my dad, his great grandfather. Dad was dying and Joey wanted to be sure to see his beloved grandpa in heaven. He went through the plan of salvation like a pro.
Dad responded by saying, "Joey, I know you believe what you just said. But I'm not sure I do. You could be wrong, you know."
Joey's wise words -- "But Grandpa, what if you're wrong?"
That's one of those tear jerkers.
Praise God, that's not the end of the story. Two days before Dad died, my youngest daughter was alone with him in his hospital room. He was in the last stage of Alzheimer's disease and had not respoonded to anything. Nana took his hand and said, "Grandpa, I don't want to tell you goodbye. I want to be able to say, 'I'll see you in heaven.'"
He squeezed her hand and gave her a wonderful smile that gave us hope.
So, keep those journals. Put those moments in writing. Don't forget them. They can make you smile and give you hope. In addition, as you share them in your writings, perhaps they will encourage others.