Sunday

Why I Blog, Even Sporadically

Today was a special day.  The Gilbert, Arizona LDS temple was dedicated.  Many people probably saw posts about the open house for the temple or maybe even attended it.  This temple is the 4th temple in the state of Arizona but will be joined by the Phoenix temple before the end of the year and the Tucson temple in the next several years.  We attended the open house and it was wonderful.  Anyone who wants to visit an LDS temple can do so during this period.  Then the temple is dedicated and only members of the LDS church who keep certain standards are able to attend regularly. 

On our church website, a short blurb about temple dedication is given:

When the open house period is over, the temple is closed to the public, and several meetings are held to dedicate the temple to the Lord. Only faithful Church members ages 8 and older are allowed to attend the dedication meetings. In these meetings, prayers are offered, instructional addresses are given, and hymns are sung in celebration of the new temple. (See HERE.)
The dedication, in three sessions, was broadcast through the state to LDS church buildings.  It was a beautiful experience filled with inspirational words, music, and prayers.

One speaker spoke of his heart being turned to his deceased ancestors - the spirit of Elijah.  He spoke specifically of his great-great-great grandmother.  Her name was Amy (can't remember her last name - something-Porter?).  He said he had been inspired to learn more of her.  He said, "Little had been written of her life."  He shared more than I know of most all my ancestors.  But this phrase - "Little had been written of her life" - reminded me why I blog.

I don't write on this blog terribly often anymore and though I try my best to keep up to date on my children's blog, it doesn't always happen.  But I do try to share some of the feelings of my heart.  And I do try to share some of the beauty of my children and the wonderful life we enjoy as a family. 

And that's the very reason.  I don't want my children to grow old and forget it all.  I'd hate for my grandchildren to say of my children or even of my husband or myself, "There was little written of her life."  I want to be remembered, be found, and learned from.  It's not out of vanity but out of hope.



How spectacular would it be for a great-grandchild to read about me and discover they have my same odd, impulsive sense of humor?  Wouldn't it be amazing for a relative generations from now to find strength in a trial I have shared or hope in a story from my life?  I want my grandchildren to read about their parents - my children - and laugh so mightily they have to catch their breath.  I want them to cry with their parents as they remember the things they overcame and the hard times they passed through.  There are things to be learned from all our experiences and the learning is not just for us to have, but for those around us.

I would really hate for someone, 125 years from now, to reference me or my children only to say there was little written on us.  Our lives will be documented and, ups and downs, strengths and weaknesses, tears and smiles, it will be beautiful.

1 comment:

Jewel said...

This is exactly why I blog. Thank you for sharing it in such an amazingly well-written way.
Also, I blog because it's fun for me to look back a year or two and see how much I've changed and grown (not to mention my children). I enjoy having these memories preserved in a lasting manner.
I, for one, am incredibly grateful that you blog. (and by the way, I attended the same dedication session that you did, because I remember that exact same story! Makes me feel close to you even though we live hours away from each other!)