I document our lives a lot. I don't owe anyone an explanation on why I share my life happenings on social media. No one really needs to understand why I post some of my most treasured memories on a blog. There are many schools of thought on this, but for me, I intend to live a life that is wide open. That's not to say, I don't have privacy. There are many things that I hold near and dear to my heart that are not for public consumption. Some are painful. Some are just sacred. These things are protected and documented in a more private venue.
I don't share my pictures, places and things because I think I am so interesting and there are people who want to know about me. It is also not for social acceptance. Quite simply, in a former day, I was a scrap booker. I would spend hours cutting, cropping and journaling my life's happenings. Many things happened to change this practice. To start, I lost everything I owned in a house fire right after graduating from college. I didn't have much, but what I did have was treasured. This type of event quickly shapes how you preserve your memories. So does having two kids and a demanding full-time job. Hence, the end of my scrapbook hobby.
Therefore, I do it in a way that makes sense to me (and keeps my mama who lives 800 miles away from her grand babies happy). My 2014 word is CAPTURE. I could say this is also a life theme. I don't want to forget life. It gets busy. It gets blurred. And then there are moments I want to go back and remember.
Call me historian. Call me paparazzi. I call me "one that needs pictures and words to help remember the details of my life."
I'm addicted to moments. The moments in your life that don't really feel like moments. Instead, they feel like a scene from a movie. One of those scenes that you rewind over and over because of the way you felt at that exact time.
I love these times because they most often reflect "game changers". They are the "2 roads diverged in a forest" events that change your life perspective or purpose. I write about these moments often. It is my way of remembering them forever, although I'm quite certain I couldn't forget them if I tried.
There was a lot of drama that surrounded my move to Tennessee when I was 18. My dad wanted me to go to Lee. I couldn't imagine living that far away from everything I knew. I didn't want to leave my family. I knew I would miss my friends. And of course, there was a boy.
I think I caught everyone off guard when I abruptly decided to attend Lee. I can't even tell you why I did it, but I just came home in April and said, "Fine. I'll go."
The months following my decision were some of the happiest in my life...a successful softball season, memorable marching band trips, high school graduation, concerts, lake time, and summer parties. Every day felt bittersweet as I tried to celebrate, savor, and say goodbye all at the same time. I felt time slipping through my hands and I desperately tried to hold on to it.
And then, it was my last day. My friends and I tried to cram as much in 24 hours as we possibly could...dinner, a concert, a campout. There were a lot of wonderful moments that day.
Moments of laughter.
Moments of tears.
Moments of regret.
Moments of hope.
But one moment will always be THAT moment. The moment I knew everything was changing, but would always remain the same. There I stood, at a concert, with my neighbors and friends, preparing to move 800 miles from everything I knew.
Bodies Swaying.
Voices Carrying.
Tears Flowing.
We sang an anthem that night and I knew my life would never be the same again.
Time for me to Fly
Oh I've got to set myself free
Time for me to fly
That's just how it's got to be
I know it hurts to say goodbye
but It's time for me to fly
I, of course, have had a lifetime of beautiful moments and wonderful people. My life has moved far from that 18 year old girl and yet, I still crave those moments that make me scared and hopeful all at the same time.
The beauty of true friends is that time and distance can't separate you from those moments that connect you. The other night a few of my high school friends decided to have a Girls Night Out while I was in town visiting. We laughed and reminisced like teenagers, even though each of us will celebrate our 40th this year. These ladies helped define me.
We froze our bras at sleepovers.
We broke our first rules.
We snuck out of the house (shhh don't tell our parents).
We swore we'd be friends forever.
After dinner, as I pulled out of the parking lot, a familiar song came over the radio and I was quickly transported to that night when NY became a place I visit and no longer my home. I turned to my friend, Amy, and we both knew what to do. Within minutes and several driveways later, all of us were together again.
Their husbands thought we were nuts taking a convertible ride at 11:00 at night. There we were, creating a moment, four 40 year old women cruising down Route 5 & 20 scream-singing an all-too-familiar song.
Time for me to Fly
Oh I've got to set myself free
Time for me to fly
That's just how it's got to be
I know it hurts to say goodbye
but It's time for me to fly
Twenty-two years ago, it was my time to fly. But as we know, having roots is as important as having wings. Over the years, I am so thankful to have both. Thirty year old friendships don't happen over night. They happen over long distance phone calls, letters in campus mailboxes, random text messages, and late night convertible rides.
~ao
1 comment:
Wonderful thoughts and memories. I, too, write because of I choose to live in the moment with Jesus and He always has plans. Some of them are just to important and precious to forget. Thanks for sharing yours!
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