Keeling Over

If today, I died, what have I left behind for those dearest to me?

--Scribbled journal entries where I left the ugly in exchange for the beautiful, but where everything, or most is incomplete.--
--Pictures stacked waiting for the album, thousands of words piled without one to stroke their memory.--
--A newly started notebook, incomplete, where the to-do list is kept, menu plans never followed, and thankfuls are scratched.--
--Bibles loved and underlined and noted.--

All of these create snapshots of the life of a woman without the whole story. Like reality shows where entire parts of people are left in the cutting room, we see only a shadow of the real.

In all the things I leave behind is the love, the change, the hope, the delight evident?
Or when they are left to look through what is I have left will they get the impression that they were burdens borne, stumbling blocks to my dreams?
Have I left them enough to know that whatever I sacrificed I laid aside for the joy of being with them--dear husband, precious children, family and friends?
Have I left them enough to know that even in the ugly, I chose them for the love and joy of them?
Are there enough words, enough actions, that they can know that on those days when I am overwhelmed, frustrated, angry at that which is before me it is a shortcoming in my heart, a place God is redeeming, not a statement of their worth?
Have I left enough?

I remember beginning this thing called blogging--she wasn't yet one and we lived far from family. It was a way for everyone to be close. Then we moved and something needed to change, but I couldn't figure out what. Then along came another one and something had to change for life wasn't all because of her. So I changed my spot and I envisioned something else. A place I could write letters to my children, or everyone, things I wanted to make sure they knew about their lives and my dreams for them. But before long hormones and baby and life and I lost that vision of this place.

Til last night while having coffee with a friend I actually said the words--something needs to change. I need to write for a purpose, here. I need to professionalize this thing I love to do for those I just love, for the One I love who has entrusted me with these people, this platform, and these words. I has been coming--a desire to be more here than a mom with sporadic words and no real reason for sending them into the world other than her own narcissism, a desire to pursue some dream, something.

So I've said all this and I still don't know what it all means. I have read articles and posts about successful blogging--giveaways, comments, regular posts, carnivals. I've read about successful writing--practice and finding my style. I entered the contest and was reminded that to win my style must conform to the style of whatever I am trying to write for. It all has to mesh together.

I know a few things. I want my children to have a legacy, just in case (nothing is wrong but one never knows). I want my story to reflect the redemption I experience daily, His grace poured out in my circumstances. I want to be real so that He may be glorified.

That said, I think I will change things here a bit, but I am not sure how. Stay tuned.