Reluctant ...

I've kept a journal or three or four my entire life. It started out as one, and morphed into four. I keep them in storage boxes labeled "thoughts." They are me. My life, my musings, my jumbled thoughts, my cries to God, my hopes, my fears, my adventures. Not what you would call leisure reading, although some of my Junior High journals are hilarious! I keep them for me, to sort out the endless wonderings I have. I write in them because I think one day, my son or daughter (who are still *twinkles* in my eye) might want to read them. But I certainly wouldn't publish them. One for daily thoughts. A "dear diary" type format. One for God. Prayers, questions, revelations. One for quotes/poetry. I love quotes and poetry. This one helps me gather thoughts for my own writing. And the fourth is for my "Tender Warrior" wherever he is! He also may or may not want to read it, but I keep one for him alone none-the-less.

So why then blog if I have such a great system? Does anyone care? Who would want to read my ramblings? A few sweet friends perhaps who are bloggers themselves between their already full lives of kids and husbands and living? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I won't make the mistake of thinking I'll suddenly be on Jimmy Fallon explaining why my blog is so fiercely followed. I may be the only one who stops by from time to time, and that is OK.

I guess I've decided to blog to take what has been on paper for so long and update it with pictures. To tell my story in a different way. Put a new 21st century spin on it. I will still keep my journals. How could I not? They are my history ... maybe this is my future.