For the past week I have been helping out my mother-in-law (oh, hey Delight!) with a family's family history project. The part that I've been working on is typing up the entries of a woman's diary. Considering how much I love reading other people's blogs, which are basically online diaries, and typing up my own blog (ahem, diary), I've been fascinated by the everyday comings and goings of this woman.
Now, to keep her things private and all that jazz, I'm not going to say who she was or type in any of her journal entries or anything. But I can't help but be inspired by some of the entries that had me quietly smiling to myself. Most of the entries are everyday life -- like "I cleaned the house" or "went to the doctor's office today." But on some special days, my new friend wrote about her life when she was a child, or about what she wants her grandchildren to know about life and her beliefs.
One such entry, she talks about how she feels like a teenager who wants to rebel from what others want her to do, because she didn't want to go pick oranges with her son. She tells a story about a day that her and her sister came home after midnight and turned up their record player so loud that they woke up their neighbors, all because their parents weren't home and, well, because they could. I smiled the whole time I copied the entry into my computer and laughed at the thought of a sassy grandma rebelling against her doctors or friends and dancing to a record player at one o'clock in the morning.
Maybe I'm rebelling by not keeping my own conventional journal. Maybe I'm not rebelling at all and I just like to say that I am. Either way, I know that I'm so grateful for the blogging community. I have never been very good at keeping journals. I could show you the 43 different journals that I started when I was younger, all unfinished because I lost interest. But I'm not losing interest. I'm sticking with my own form of journaling. And some day, my children and grandchildren will be able to look back and see their crazy, sassy grandma in a new light and know that I did this so that I could get to know myself and, more importantly, that they could come to know me, too.
So, how do you rebel?