Monday, February 5, 2018
Everybody's Working for the Weekend!
As a parent, I have to say that weekends lose all of the romanticized notions they develop during your adolescent and young adult years. No longer are you left to your own devices to wake up according to your natural body clock; I have five clocks besides my own (seven if you count the dogs) that control my schedule. Fortunately for me, two of those individuals ARE teenagers and we have an understanding; they don't bug me and I don't bug them. My boys, on the other hand, are no respecters of my schedule. Weekends are the time to get stuff done. It's normally the time that Matt is home and that we don't have much to contend with other than some time at my job at Willow. Truth be told, there's are good things and bad things about that; many times I would rather be home, but it's also good for the kids and Matt have to spend some together. Honestly, I think the kids appreciate me more after a day home with Dad.... not because he's bad, but just because he's different.
If I'm talking about my perfect weekend, it would involve waking and sleeping at my leisure and being able to do the things that I want to do. I could clean my craft room, straighten up my bedroom, do some laundry and maybe do a little grocery shopping. As I get older, I find that I would prefer to conduct my entire weekend in pajamas, although going to the grocery store sans bra is generally frowned up. My perfect Saturday would probably have to involve the paring back of my kids schedule... meaning they're in before 2 am and I don't have to provide any rides.
Matt and I would end the night either at a movie or watching an episode of something we'd like in bed without the boys or dogs hanging around.
Sunday is church and no outings. I can handle the church thing.... it's mostly good, although spending time with everyone else's kids can take it out of you. But usually, it's a good day for a nap when you have early church. The only downside of Sunday and Sabbath observance is the fact that my options for Diet Coke become much more limited. I won't say that I haven't been known to sneak out for a fountain drink, but I will say that it's a bit of a bummer that it has turned into that much of an event for me that I would miss it that much. For some reason, the cans just aren't the same.
Sunday's at our house also include any number of sandwiches after church; cheese, tuna or some such combination of other ingredients mined from the fridge. These are often accompanied by chips and salsa or guacamole. I have no desire for a big dinner or the dishes that accompany it.... unless it's at someone else's house; then I'll travel for sure.
Sunday night would also end about 8:30. Maybe some TV, maybe a book.... I'm wildly exciting, I know.
If I'm talking about my perfect weekend, it would involve waking and sleeping at my leisure and being able to do the things that I want to do. I could clean my craft room, straighten up my bedroom, do some laundry and maybe do a little grocery shopping. As I get older, I find that I would prefer to conduct my entire weekend in pajamas, although going to the grocery store sans bra is generally frowned up. My perfect Saturday would probably have to involve the paring back of my kids schedule... meaning they're in before 2 am and I don't have to provide any rides.
Matt and I would end the night either at a movie or watching an episode of something we'd like in bed without the boys or dogs hanging around.
Sunday is church and no outings. I can handle the church thing.... it's mostly good, although spending time with everyone else's kids can take it out of you. But usually, it's a good day for a nap when you have early church. The only downside of Sunday and Sabbath observance is the fact that my options for Diet Coke become much more limited. I won't say that I haven't been known to sneak out for a fountain drink, but I will say that it's a bit of a bummer that it has turned into that much of an event for me that I would miss it that much. For some reason, the cans just aren't the same.
Sunday's at our house also include any number of sandwiches after church; cheese, tuna or some such combination of other ingredients mined from the fridge. These are often accompanied by chips and salsa or guacamole. I have no desire for a big dinner or the dishes that accompany it.... unless it's at someone else's house; then I'll travel for sure.
Sunday night would also end about 8:30. Maybe some TV, maybe a book.... I'm wildly exciting, I know.
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Born to Travel
Anyone who knows me, knows that I love to see and experience new places. I have a list of places a mile long and as soon as these dang kids are self-sufficient, Matt and I will be off on our great adventure. However, the question of the day is "what is my favorite childhood vacation?"
Although we traveled quite a bit when I was growing up, we were mostly creatures of habit; we went to the same places often. My grandparents lived in Washington, so we visited them. My other set of grandparents rented a summer home on the Oregon Coast, so we spent time there. I can remember several trips to Yellowstone, Disneyland and Washington DC to walk many, MANY Civil War battlefields. However, I think that my most memorable vacation as a child actually occurred when I was in high school. Toward the end of my junior year, my parents took our family to Walt Disney World. I have been dozens of times since then, but I picked this particular trip because it is honestly one of the last ones that we took as a party of five; just Mom, Dad, me and the boys! It was also the gateway to what has become a major highlight of my family's life since 1992.
It has also changed a lot since that first trip. We ate dinner at Chef Mickey's when it was still at Downtown Disney.... which doesn't exist anymore. Now it's known as Disney Springs. There was this really fun part that was called Pleasure Island. It was a "night club themed" area and we spent one evening at a stand-up comedy show. We shopped at a place called Jessica's which offered several pieces of clothing featuring Jessica Rabbit. I got a really cool sweatshirt that I surrendered YEARS later. I was so sad to have it fall apart.
Epcot Center was awesome. It was the first trip of many where I shopped my way around the world. Buying something from every country was something that I was bound and determined to do. And Captain Buzzy and Cranium Command? Best show ever!
We enjoyed a recently opened MGM Studios where Muppets 3D was our favorite attraction and I loved the backlot tour where I saw the front of the Golden Girls house.
The highlight of the trip for me was the fact that my dad bought me a princess crown! Juvenile? Yes, probably. But I still have it. A close second to the large stuffed hippo from Fantasia.
We stayed at the now defunct Disney Inn and decided that this was not going to be a one-off. We would go back.... although our next trip in 1994 included my new favorite; Matt!
Although we traveled quite a bit when I was growing up, we were mostly creatures of habit; we went to the same places often. My grandparents lived in Washington, so we visited them. My other set of grandparents rented a summer home on the Oregon Coast, so we spent time there. I can remember several trips to Yellowstone, Disneyland and Washington DC to walk many, MANY Civil War battlefields. However, I think that my most memorable vacation as a child actually occurred when I was in high school. Toward the end of my junior year, my parents took our family to Walt Disney World. I have been dozens of times since then, but I picked this particular trip because it is honestly one of the last ones that we took as a party of five; just Mom, Dad, me and the boys! It was also the gateway to what has become a major highlight of my family's life since 1992.
It has also changed a lot since that first trip. We ate dinner at Chef Mickey's when it was still at Downtown Disney.... which doesn't exist anymore. Now it's known as Disney Springs. There was this really fun part that was called Pleasure Island. It was a "night club themed" area and we spent one evening at a stand-up comedy show. We shopped at a place called Jessica's which offered several pieces of clothing featuring Jessica Rabbit. I got a really cool sweatshirt that I surrendered YEARS later. I was so sad to have it fall apart.
Epcot Center was awesome. It was the first trip of many where I shopped my way around the world. Buying something from every country was something that I was bound and determined to do. And Captain Buzzy and Cranium Command? Best show ever!
We enjoyed a recently opened MGM Studios where Muppets 3D was our favorite attraction and I loved the backlot tour where I saw the front of the Golden Girls house.
The highlight of the trip for me was the fact that my dad bought me a princess crown! Juvenile? Yes, probably. But I still have it. A close second to the large stuffed hippo from Fantasia.
We stayed at the now defunct Disney Inn and decided that this was not going to be a one-off. We would go back.... although our next trip in 1994 included my new favorite; Matt!
Friday, February 2, 2018
Rebekah Hits the Road
The question for the day is "what was your first driving experience like?" This seems like it was just yesterday, but can't have been because I'm close to having two teenaged drivers myself.
This is going to show you how old I truly am. Back in my day, you had to take Drivers Ed before you could get your Learners Permit. As near as I can remember, driving at 15 seemed to be the one advantage that Idaho had over Utah. Most of my friends took Drivers Ed as part of their high school schedule.... but not me. I had too many other important things to do (whatever!) I think it was mostly because we had a Drivers Ed instructor who taught private lessons in our ward, so we decided to go that route. Anyway, effectively what that meant for a family of rule followers such as we were, was that I had little to no driving experience until right before I got my license.
The first time I remember sitting behind the steering wheel of a car was in the Hunter High parking lot when I was supposed to be in 8th period Debate. I can't for the life of me remember whose car it was, but I remember that Ryan Robinson and Rebecca Horrocks were in the car with me. It was a standard transmission and boy, was I over that whole thing in a hurry. During Drivers Ed, and in general at my house, I was lucky enough to learn on automatic transmissions. Little did I know that driving a stick shift would soon become a part of my driving experience.
About two weeks before I turned 16, my dad drove me out to a somewhat abandoned industrial park on a Sunday. I say somewhat abandoned because although there were few people working then, it was still open to some roving herds of sheep. What should that matter, you ask? How hard is it to miss a herd of sheep? Well, it's rough when you're still trying to learn the difference between the brake and the gas. Let's just say that there was more than one prayer uttered for Mary's Little Lambs on that Sabbath Day. (Warning: objects in blog post are closer than they appear!)
May 26, 1990... the big day. I had my Learners Permit, but not my license yet. That would have to wait until after school. But the morning of my birthday, my parents took a leap of faith and my mom probably took a Valium and we all loaded up in the car to drive to breakfast at Hardee's (I know! We know how to celebrate.) My mom loved their cinnamon raisin biscuits and it seemed close enough to home that it would be a fairly benign outing. What follows below is the true story of "why the chicken crossed the road?" Or better yet, "what happened when the chicken crossed the road?"
It was about 6:30 am and after procuring our breakfast, we were on our way back home. Said chicken had unfortunately attempted to cross three lanes of rush hour traffic on 3500 South and was dead to begin with. I swear I had nothing to do with that. The problem was, he was just squished on the road. Now that some time has passed, I recognize and appreciate the advice my dad gave when he instructed me not to run over the chicken; and yet, things were moving pretty fast at that point and being among that many other moving cars was new to me. I froze up and bore down on that poor piece of poultry. I don't know why I find this story so amusing, but I do.
The final story of myself as a new driver has to do with learning to drive a stick shift; I mean truly learning. After turning 16 and pitching what has become one of the most regrettable fits of my life, I was the proud new operator of a 1979 VW Rabbit.... but it had a standard transmission. One night, my dad decided that we would go driving on the big roads and learn how to drive in traffic; which really meant learning how to recover from stalling in traffic. At the intersection of 3500 South and 4000 West, it happened. We stopped at the light and the car died when I tried to go again. Honking and flipping of the bird was happening all around me and I was really stressed. My dad handled it calmly and in stride; my mom and I? Not so much. Now, honestly, why we took my mom with us again is a mystery. She has systematically hated yielding her position as driver and only did so when I was 32 and the space requirements for car seats dictated that we take my minivan instead of her car. Anyway, after several stalls that night and for some time after, I finally mastered a stick shift and the world was my oyster.
I love driving. I love the feeling of being in control that it gives me and the feeling that I have that I can go and do whatever I want. I still largely follow the rules my parents gave me when I started driving; I wear my seatbelt, I keep a mostly full tank of gas, I don't let anyone else drive my car and I obey the speed limit. I do, however, enjoy listening to the radio. That was my parent's insistence, but is now the only thing that sometimes keeps me from driving my kids into the ditch.
This is going to show you how old I truly am. Back in my day, you had to take Drivers Ed before you could get your Learners Permit. As near as I can remember, driving at 15 seemed to be the one advantage that Idaho had over Utah. Most of my friends took Drivers Ed as part of their high school schedule.... but not me. I had too many other important things to do (whatever!) I think it was mostly because we had a Drivers Ed instructor who taught private lessons in our ward, so we decided to go that route. Anyway, effectively what that meant for a family of rule followers such as we were, was that I had little to no driving experience until right before I got my license.
The first time I remember sitting behind the steering wheel of a car was in the Hunter High parking lot when I was supposed to be in 8th period Debate. I can't for the life of me remember whose car it was, but I remember that Ryan Robinson and Rebecca Horrocks were in the car with me. It was a standard transmission and boy, was I over that whole thing in a hurry. During Drivers Ed, and in general at my house, I was lucky enough to learn on automatic transmissions. Little did I know that driving a stick shift would soon become a part of my driving experience.
About two weeks before I turned 16, my dad drove me out to a somewhat abandoned industrial park on a Sunday. I say somewhat abandoned because although there were few people working then, it was still open to some roving herds of sheep. What should that matter, you ask? How hard is it to miss a herd of sheep? Well, it's rough when you're still trying to learn the difference between the brake and the gas. Let's just say that there was more than one prayer uttered for Mary's Little Lambs on that Sabbath Day. (Warning: objects in blog post are closer than they appear!)
May 26, 1990... the big day. I had my Learners Permit, but not my license yet. That would have to wait until after school. But the morning of my birthday, my parents took a leap of faith and my mom probably took a Valium and we all loaded up in the car to drive to breakfast at Hardee's (I know! We know how to celebrate.) My mom loved their cinnamon raisin biscuits and it seemed close enough to home that it would be a fairly benign outing. What follows below is the true story of "why the chicken crossed the road?" Or better yet, "what happened when the chicken crossed the road?"
It was about 6:30 am and after procuring our breakfast, we were on our way back home. Said chicken had unfortunately attempted to cross three lanes of rush hour traffic on 3500 South and was dead to begin with. I swear I had nothing to do with that. The problem was, he was just squished on the road. Now that some time has passed, I recognize and appreciate the advice my dad gave when he instructed me not to run over the chicken; and yet, things were moving pretty fast at that point and being among that many other moving cars was new to me. I froze up and bore down on that poor piece of poultry. I don't know why I find this story so amusing, but I do.
The final story of myself as a new driver has to do with learning to drive a stick shift; I mean truly learning. After turning 16 and pitching what has become one of the most regrettable fits of my life, I was the proud new operator of a 1979 VW Rabbit.... but it had a standard transmission. One night, my dad decided that we would go driving on the big roads and learn how to drive in traffic; which really meant learning how to recover from stalling in traffic. At the intersection of 3500 South and 4000 West, it happened. We stopped at the light and the car died when I tried to go again. Honking and flipping of the bird was happening all around me and I was really stressed. My dad handled it calmly and in stride; my mom and I? Not so much. Now, honestly, why we took my mom with us again is a mystery. She has systematically hated yielding her position as driver and only did so when I was 32 and the space requirements for car seats dictated that we take my minivan instead of her car. Anyway, after several stalls that night and for some time after, I finally mastered a stick shift and the world was my oyster.
I love driving. I love the feeling of being in control that it gives me and the feeling that I have that I can go and do whatever I want. I still largely follow the rules my parents gave me when I started driving; I wear my seatbelt, I keep a mostly full tank of gas, I don't let anyone else drive my car and I obey the speed limit. I do, however, enjoy listening to the radio. That was my parent's insistence, but is now the only thing that sometimes keeps me from driving my kids into the ditch.
A Lesson I Learned From My Grandpa
Last year was a year of transformations. I got in touch with my feelings, went back to work, wrote sporadically and didn't blog like I'd hoped to. Writing is great therapy, truth seeking and sometimes requires a large degree of self-censoring. Obviously, my wish to kick up my blogging in 2017 didn't happen. So, in an attempt to get back in the habit of writing and looking for the good and, let's face it, the funny, I've decided to consult the ever-wonderful Pinterest and use prompts to write for February.
When I think about the things I learned from my grandpa(s), there are lots of experiences that fly through my mind. My Grandpa Homer was a huge part of my life.... he lived next door for most of my life. It's funny because when I was a kid, if I walked into the house and my Grandma was gone, I would turn around and walk right back out the door. Willard was a character; and some of my best stories about him result in me laying on the driveway in December or sitting (not so) patiently by as he asked the nearest male for help solving whatever problem was currently before him. He was a man of the times; traditional in every sense of the word. Sometimes (most of the time) it drove me nuts..... but as I grew up and grew older, it was something I grew to appreciate.
Despite the fact that he and my grandma always enjoyed a great debate, political or otherwise, he loved her very much. When I was in high school, I had several opportunities to spend time with my grandparents and it became evident to me that my Grandma was his treasure. He took care of her, worked hard to provide for her, they traveled together, went to plays and when they were separated, he literally could not function. I thought that was weird. My parents weren't like that. And yet, they are now.
I always found myself wondering what it was that kept them together. A lot of the time they seemed like oil and water. But they were committed to each other. They took care of each other; sometimes in big ways and sometimes in small ways. I discovered while my grandpa was hospitalized for a period in time that my grandma didn't know how to put gas in her car! That amazed me. She didn't know where her checkbook was! How did that happen post-2000? He didn't cook for himself; unless it was eggs for breakfast.
They defended each other fiercely and took care of each other with great dedication.... even when their patience was tried. They were married for 63 years. So what did I learn from him?
I learned that things don't have to be perfect to be good. I learned that some of the best things in life are peppered bacon hidden candy bars. I learned that showing up on time to work was the easiest thing to do in your day and at the end of the day, the fact that you had a job was it's own reward. I learned that it can be hard to have integrity in life; there are a lot of gray areas. But, your integrity is the hallmark of your character. People will try to take advantage of you and what you have to offer; "to thine own self be true." Do the right things for the right reasons..... even if your method is flawed and you have to start over from time to time. Be loyal!
My Grandpa Jones wasn't around as much when I was younger, but I always looked forward to my visits with my mom's parents. Looking back, the amount of patience and love that my Grandpa Jones had for his grandchildren seems amazing. When I would visit, he would take me to work with him. He would drive me around to make sure that I got a chance to stay with all of my cousins; even though I know I made it hard because I got homesick real easy and would spend nearly my entire trip wanting to be somewhere I wasn't. There were things that my cousins and I did at my grandparents house that I would scalp my own kids for. My grandparents were content to let us make up games, play make-believe, and didn't get mad when we'd hide their cigarettes and lighters in the freezer. Grandpa was up early every day. I'd come into the kitchen to find him and Grandma playing cribbage and drinking coffee. There is something to be said for those early morning hours and I wish I could discipline myself to take better advantage of them.
My grandpa remembered near everyone he ever met. If he couldn't recall them immediately, there was no moving on in the conversation until he did. My grandpa loved dogs; all dogs. I blame him for my dog problem. He loved his Vitamin R. He loved his grandkids and smelled like Old Spice. My grandpa loved his family; brothers, sisters, in-laws.... they were all one big happy clan in Hood River. Some of my best memories from my early married years took place with my Grandpa Jones. He taught me to make apple and peach pies. He taught me the importance of locking doors and checking for expiration dates on food (NOT!)
But mostly, he taught me how to keep going; even when I'd messed up. Don't give up, start over. He taught me that life is a series of lessons and experiences and they all build upon each other. And my grandpa taught me that it is never too late. After years of being around the Mormon Church because of my family, he decided in his last few months on earth that he wanted to join us. Watching him get baptized, and being able to share that with all of my family, was one of the most touching things I think I will ever be privileged to see. Grandpa taught me that second chances are real and that life keeps on going.
All of these lessons, from both sides of my family, have helped to shape me into the person I am today. There are parts of them that I cherish, parts of them that I secretly curse and parts of them that I simply stand in awe of. They were two very different men but both of them loved me very much. And that love and acceptance is something that I see mirrored and displayed by both of my parents toward my own children.
Thank you to Willard and Wayne for your love, legacy and lessons.
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| Grandpa Homer was in the Army during WWII and spent time in the Pacific. |
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| Grandpa Jones was in the Navy in the late 1940's and was a photographer. |
When I think about the things I learned from my grandpa(s), there are lots of experiences that fly through my mind. My Grandpa Homer was a huge part of my life.... he lived next door for most of my life. It's funny because when I was a kid, if I walked into the house and my Grandma was gone, I would turn around and walk right back out the door. Willard was a character; and some of my best stories about him result in me laying on the driveway in December or sitting (not so) patiently by as he asked the nearest male for help solving whatever problem was currently before him. He was a man of the times; traditional in every sense of the word. Sometimes (most of the time) it drove me nuts..... but as I grew up and grew older, it was something I grew to appreciate.
Despite the fact that he and my grandma always enjoyed a great debate, political or otherwise, he loved her very much. When I was in high school, I had several opportunities to spend time with my grandparents and it became evident to me that my Grandma was his treasure. He took care of her, worked hard to provide for her, they traveled together, went to plays and when they were separated, he literally could not function. I thought that was weird. My parents weren't like that. And yet, they are now.
I always found myself wondering what it was that kept them together. A lot of the time they seemed like oil and water. But they were committed to each other. They took care of each other; sometimes in big ways and sometimes in small ways. I discovered while my grandpa was hospitalized for a period in time that my grandma didn't know how to put gas in her car! That amazed me. She didn't know where her checkbook was! How did that happen post-2000? He didn't cook for himself; unless it was eggs for breakfast.
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| My grandparents, Willard & Shirley Homer, on their 60th Wedding Anniversary January 19, 2006 |
I learned that things don't have to be perfect to be good. I learned that some of the best things in life are peppered bacon hidden candy bars. I learned that showing up on time to work was the easiest thing to do in your day and at the end of the day, the fact that you had a job was it's own reward. I learned that it can be hard to have integrity in life; there are a lot of gray areas. But, your integrity is the hallmark of your character. People will try to take advantage of you and what you have to offer; "to thine own self be true." Do the right things for the right reasons..... even if your method is flawed and you have to start over from time to time. Be loyal!
 |
| My Grandpa "Jack" with his namesake, Jack Matthew Pierce. Jack's Blessing Day, March 2006 |
My Grandpa Jones wasn't around as much when I was younger, but I always looked forward to my visits with my mom's parents. Looking back, the amount of patience and love that my Grandpa Jones had for his grandchildren seems amazing. When I would visit, he would take me to work with him. He would drive me around to make sure that I got a chance to stay with all of my cousins; even though I know I made it hard because I got homesick real easy and would spend nearly my entire trip wanting to be somewhere I wasn't. There were things that my cousins and I did at my grandparents house that I would scalp my own kids for. My grandparents were content to let us make up games, play make-believe, and didn't get mad when we'd hide their cigarettes and lighters in the freezer. Grandpa was up early every day. I'd come into the kitchen to find him and Grandma playing cribbage and drinking coffee. There is something to be said for those early morning hours and I wish I could discipline myself to take better advantage of them.
My grandpa remembered near everyone he ever met. If he couldn't recall them immediately, there was no moving on in the conversation until he did. My grandpa loved dogs; all dogs. I blame him for my dog problem. He loved his Vitamin R. He loved his grandkids and smelled like Old Spice. My grandpa loved his family; brothers, sisters, in-laws.... they were all one big happy clan in Hood River. Some of my best memories from my early married years took place with my Grandpa Jones. He taught me to make apple and peach pies. He taught me the importance of locking doors and checking for expiration dates on food (NOT!)
But mostly, he taught me how to keep going; even when I'd messed up. Don't give up, start over. He taught me that life is a series of lessons and experiences and they all build upon each other. And my grandpa taught me that it is never too late. After years of being around the Mormon Church because of my family, he decided in his last few months on earth that he wanted to join us. Watching him get baptized, and being able to share that with all of my family, was one of the most touching things I think I will ever be privileged to see. Grandpa taught me that second chances are real and that life keeps on going.
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| My parents and my brothers with my Grandpa Jones on the day he was baptized. June 8, 2014 |
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| Grandpa Jones and all of his great-grandchildren: Erin, Allie, Jack & Will Pierce; Leah & Andrew Homer; Lizzie, Abbey & Charlotte Homer June 8, 2014 |
All of these lessons, from both sides of my family, have helped to shape me into the person I am today. There are parts of them that I cherish, parts of them that I secretly curse and parts of them that I simply stand in awe of. They were two very different men but both of them loved me very much. And that love and acceptance is something that I see mirrored and displayed by both of my parents toward my own children.
Thank you to Willard and Wayne for your love, legacy and lessons.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Humor or Hobby.......Truth or Therapy
This is uncharted territory for me. I find myself looking back over 2016 and being grateful I've survived. I am looking forward to 2017 and trying to figure out a way to really "come into my own" going forward. What do I mean by that? Well for starters, I am trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up; obviously I'm a little slow. Why am I trying to figure this out? Well, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I have been feeling a little lost this year. Trying to figure out how to lead by example, put first things first and prioritize my life is something that hit me hard at 40 and I've been in a tailspin ever since. I need to get this figured out.
One of the things that I have done over the course of the last year to help deal with some of my issues has been to write. I have several journals that range from deeply personal to wildly and publicly inappropriate (thank you blog readers). Anyway, I am trying to figure out if I want to commit to this developing discipline in my life and up my blogging game.
I have a couple of thoughts that I'll share and I hope that you will be willing to provide feedback; good, bad and ugly are all okay. Here are a few of the known/assumed factors that I am using as guideposts.
One of the things that I have done over the course of the last year to help deal with some of my issues has been to write. I have several journals that range from deeply personal to wildly and publicly inappropriate (thank you blog readers). Anyway, I am trying to figure out if I want to commit to this developing discipline in my life and up my blogging game.
I have a couple of thoughts that I'll share and I hope that you will be willing to provide feedback; good, bad and ugly are all okay. Here are a few of the known/assumed factors that I am using as guideposts.
- I enjoy writing, and anecdotally at least, I believe that there are those of you who like reading what I write. This may be just because you know me? Or maybe what I've written has struck a nerve? Not sure just yet. I don't get very many written comments on my blog, but I do hear from a lot of you in conversation. So, am I having a Sally Field moment? Do you "really like me?" Please let me know.
- I know that not everything I write is for everybody, and that's okay. For example, I know that my December posts have been way more religious than most of my stuff. That may be off-putting to a lot of you. Addressing the #LightTheWorld posts specifically, I was looking to improve my mental and spiritual attitude for myself in December and having someone provide prompts was helpful. I appreciated the opportunity to contribute something daily and it proved to be a good exercise for me. Rest assured, there are plenty of "normal mom posts" waiting in the wings for future appearances.
- I know that my content is inherently personal and this may limit the appeal of my posts. Truth be told, I see myself as reasonably intelligent, mostly polite, kinda funny and sorta helpful. If I have one idol in my writing world, it would be Erma Bombeck.... speaking truth and making it relative to my readers. I am not afraid to be self-depracating, but I also realize that folks may not always want to read about my life. However, I do believe that there are large parts of my life that are highly representative of the lives of my "peer group." Whether it's enough to try and find more people to "read all about it" is up for debate.
- I do see the need for and think I could do something about focusing my blogging efforts on some specific things... as in, narrow down the brain vomit and focus on things like a "Travel Tuesday" or "Whiny Wednesday." I don't know.... I feel like the appeal of writing all of this to me is the randomness and inspiration that I get from every day stuff. All that I've read about blogging assumes that you are selling or creating products (printables, programs, etc) for consumption or that you are on a journey through weight loss, cancer, adoption, divorce. I kinda like being a dabbler; a little of this and a little of that. I have always felt if I can't be an example, I should be a warning. But dabbling may just muddy the message.
- I like politics and current events, and although I don't spend a lot of time discussing them on the blog, there still needs to be a place for them. I think....
So.... those of you who read regularly, or even read other blogs regularly, I guess I have a couple of specific questions for you and am honestly seeking feedback as to how I should proceed. Do I stay as is, or do I put myself out there and attempt to capitalize on all the brainy goodness and life experience I can impart. Ultimately, what I decide to do needs to feel right and genuine to me, but you can't always trust your own press. So, I'm turning to you. Please take a minute, answer the questions below and email me at bekpierce@gmail.com with any input you have. And yes, I know that Blogger and other programs can do a lot of this for me... but crunching numbers and data has never been my strong suit and I love words.... so talk to me people!
- How did you hear about this blog?
- How often do you check to see if there's an update?
- Do you subscribe to this blog or others?
- Do you like the content? Is it relatable or enjoyable to read?
- How do you feel about the writing itself? I know I'm generally a wordy person.... that's a lot how I process things.
- Have you, or would you, be willing to share these blog posts with folks you know?
- Would you like to see more specificity in posts, i.e. travel, event planning, life lessons.....
- What is your favorite post? Why did you like it? Thinking this may help me find a focus.
- Finally, any other productive comments you'd care to make would be appreciated. We do not have to share the same opinions... but I'm looking for feedback on blog itself and not specifically on content.
Thanks in advance for any feedback you provide. This is kind of a leap of faith for me. Folks are always telling me that I should write a book. Erma Bombeck wrote 15 books and a newspaper column for years.... Do I dare stick my neck out and try to promote myself? I don't know, but I do know that I want to be done with this mid-life identity crisis and maybe this is a way out?!
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
#LightTheWorld Day Twenty-Five - Jesus's Disciples Followed Him and So Can We
In our mortal lives, we are blessed by the opportunity we have to follow Jesus Christ.
Following someone requires lots of attributes.
The biggest and most important of these traits is humility.
In our mortal existence, we are often times left to our own devices to make decisions.
There is no shortage of material in the world that can teach us the things we need to know to make the most of our mortal experience; even if it's only to remind us that we need a plan.
We must decide which way to go.
It is important that we look for the path that has been prepared for us.
We have friends that will help us along the path.
The best stories in life take us on a journey.
The best journeys in life are those on which we can learn and grow.
I love the story of Ruth and Naomi.
None of us makes it through this life on our own.
Family, friends, leaders, teachers and our Savior make it possible to stay on the path.
Our earth life is the ultimate journey and we are blessed to be able to follow the best leader there is.
We need to learn to recognize the voice of our Shepherd and then learn to follow Him.
We need to magnify our callings, love our neighbors, serve our family and friends and glorify the name of God. We need to live as examples and disciples of Christ so that
those who know us will want to know Him, because they know us.
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