July = Story
I wrote earlier this month that my parents were not story-tellers. They were not. However, they were both very encouraging of my reading anything and everything I got my hands on. Once I could read, I eagerly read both fiction and non-fiction. I am grateful for the freedom that I had to explore stories interesting to me.
- My mother patiently listened to my eager questions about spelling the names of food products in the kitchen cabinets when I was just learning to read. F-l-o-u-r, S-u-g-a-r, etc.
- My father taught me how to carefully open a new book, page by page, so that the spine of the book was not damaged. I learned from his attitude that books were treasures and to treat them carefully.
- I remember one instance while being home from school, I sat on the carpet listening to him read his favorite poetry. I learned from his reading, the beauty of words.
- My father was a Pastor and wrote weekly sermons. It is interesting that I don’t remember specific sermons, although I do remember stress on a Saturday night if he was still preparing his sermon at that time.
These are cherished memories, and a small portion of my story.
I encourage you to use your journals to write your own cherished memories, your story.