I could write—would love to write—about our latest grandchild. And about my feelings of not being able to hold a little girl born half-way around the world. She, her brother, and her parents live in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates and we’re not sure when we’ll meet her. Oh, to see her little legs pump or her little arms flail—to hear her cry—to smell her smells. We’re so thrilled she’s in our life—well, that isn’t quite accurate, is it? She's part of our family, but not part of our experience. Sometimes it doesn't seem real. Life can be bittersweet.
I told one of my children, however, that I wouldn’t write about the grandkids—and I’ll abide by that promise most of the time. In the interest of safety and privacy, I don’t plan to post identifiable pictures of them. But let me tell you that our new granddaughter and her brother were a surprise. They’re the progeny of our oldest son. Ken and I didn’t think he would bless us so wonderfully. She makes our seventh grandchild and, I think, our last. That’s a sad thought, but seven is a good number, don’t you think?
I could write about our oldest daughter’s child, our oldest granddaughter—she’ll be a high school senior this year and she’s involved in many things. Through all her activities, however, she’s had a small garden. It started with carrots, peas, etc. One year she planted three tree seeds. They all took off and were eventually transplanted into the yard. Over time the garden evolved so it’s now primarily perennials—including rhubarb, strawberries, and raspberries. Raspberries were producing when we visited them recently, and I’ve wanted to share this picture of her as she harvested her produce—a golden variety. Very sweet.
I could write about our friends from the lake who are coming in to attend a baseball game with us tonight. He has a medical appointment early in the morning and this works out for them and for us. Here’s a picture I took of Ken (on the right) and Ron when we attended The Gathering. It was the best picture of the night, worthy of sharing.
Have you noticed the personal nature of these subjects? When I started blogging, I envisioned this blog, Sunny Pathway, would be about health issues—specifically health issues related to growing older. I planned to interview nurses, social workers, perhaps even one of my doctors—and to research topics of interest for others who, like me, are dealing with unfamiliar issues. I'm especially interested in spiritual resources—and their impact on aging.
It isn’t going to happen. During my days of reporting, interviews were exciting because I never knew exactly where they’d go, but I didn’t face the challenges then that I face now. I simply don’t have the energy to pursue interviews—or to pursue research in a huge field.
What to do. I had an inkling when I began blogging that I didn’t have a handle on what I was doing or where this trip would take me. I’ve wondered about it, prayed about it, and feel I have a direction, at least for now. In Sunny Pathway I’ll continue to write about aging, but I’ll focus on my personal experience. This actually makes good journalism, too. I learned when I was active in the field that generalities don’t communicate well. Statistics aren’t interesting. Methods and techniques are boring unless set within a framework.
My other blog, Red, Red, Berries, was supposed to be personal. It’s turned into something cerebral. I think it will become more focused. I need an outlet, a place to work out my thoughts on specific spiritual topics. If anyone is interested, you’re welcome to join.
And I’m thinking—planning—to start a third blog. It will be short, short daily devotionals.
In the middle of all this excitement, I’ve faced a significant medical challenge this week—for a short period of time I’m on steroids again. It’s depressing, scary, and I plan to write about that next week or the week following—after the dosage has been reduced. My relationship with steroids probably makes better copy—that means it’s more interesting, more insightful, and more helpful—than a medical report. So I think I’m on the right track.
Stay posted.
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