beginnings

What do you do with your writing energy when you don't feel you have a place to write?  I send out  a Christmas newsletter every year, which I enjoy doing.  I like letting people know what is happening in our lives through words.  I'm not a big phone person -- I never have been.  (Although, I think my parent's memories of my teen years might be more accurate here.)  Just ask my dearest friends if I am easily accessible using the phone.  I have a cell phone - but it has voice mail so I don't answer it but half the time.  The house phone is even less.

I love written words.  I love the weight of a pen in my hand and the feel of stationary under my wrist.  The sound of the rustle as I move the page into a better fit for the curvature of my handwriting.  The feeling of finality after I sign my name, fold a paper in half, seal the contents into a sturdy envelope, and drop it in the mail.  There is something much more solid about writing a letter by hand than sending an email.  There is a stronger sense of accomplishment.  More thought must go into handwriting a letter as the words take longer to form, so you are allowed more opportunity to reconsider rather than dashing words on a keyboard and hitting send.  More kindness, less apology.

But then there comes that pesky time thing.  How do you make time to be the wife, mother, homeschooler, daughter, sister, friend you desire to be and still write letters?  Well, frankly, I don't.  I used to be a great letter writer -- before the twins were born.  I used to sit weekly and write a several page letter to my husband's parents (whom I refuse to call my in-laws unless I have to for clarity's sake.  I love them as if they were my own parents.) once a week.  And it worked out great as Mama R would pass the letter around to the extended family, so everyone felt cherished.  And updated (side benefit.)  

I'm great at cards.  Cards are self limiting.  There is only so much space in a card so I'm already assured my time commitment will be small.  Although, I obviously refuse to accept these space limits since I seem to be always writing onto the back and over the logo.  Ridiculous.  

But again, I love that immediate reward of accomplishing something outside of my own world.  Knowing that I am helping to keep the post office in business (I know you think it was eBay, but I am convinced it is my writing letters.  Don't spoil it for me.)  Knowing that either tomorrow or next week, the object of my affection is touching the very same page my own hands held.  There is an intimacy to letter writing which I find soothing.  Of course, my sons find the idea of opening an envelope that someone licked shut disgusting, but I prefer to dwell on the romantic notions.

So here I am.  I have a large network of family and friends who would truly appreciate the opportunity to know what occurs within these walls more frequently than once a year.  Or when I answer the phone.  I looked into MySpace but it didn't feel like a good fit.  Then I looked into FaceBook.  They never emailed the link pages to establish my own page.  I tried three times.  After that, I figured it just wasn't for me either.  So then I figured there were two options left.  I could send a monthly newsletter -- but wouldn't that diminish the fun at Christmas? -- or I could try a blog.   Granted, it uses a keyboard instead of a heavy pen.  But, in the end, isn't communicating more important than the method?

I make no promises of daily writing.  I will promise complete candor and pictures as often as I can get them on.  I also assure you that our lives will continue much in the same way they always have, with one great exception.  I will be writing again.