Posted by deniseym on Feb 27, 2013 in Book Reviews, Church Militant Moments, The Catchall Category, Writing Thoughts | 1 comment
You Want me to Do What? is a journal for caregivers written by B. Lynn Goodwin. Now, I haven’t read or used this book…I’m not even the target audience (at this point in my life)…but what a beautiful concept for a book!
When we are given the chance to express appreciation for, offer prayers for, support, and even to celebrate those who take care of (in any way) “these least brothers” (Matt. 25: 40), we should. This book would make a great anytime gift for a caretaker.
Journalling is a skill (hobby…outlet… practice) that enables even the least-interested “writer” to journey through his interior world. And if you do have a penchant for the art of writing, what better private space to experiment with your thoughts and words? I irregularly scribbled my questions, rants, speculations, dreams, and prayers in journal after journal through my teen years…on into my young twenties…and into marriage and motherhood. Many of these books did not survive my “minimalist moments” when I cut my belongings down to, well, the minimal (or at least less than before). Sometimes I’d even just rip up an entire journal because I was done with that (either trouble-free or somewhat tumultuous) moment of my life. The writing and the ripping were cathartic.
At this point in my life, I’m beginning to contemplate memoir writing. To answer those incessant questions gently tossed at me by my insatiably curious children (note: I absolutely admire and love that quality in them!). I answer their questions at the moment they ask, but then later seem to recall more details about those pieces of my or my birth-family’s “history.” So, why not practice the art of memoir writing…if only to sort out memories to later share with my inquisitive children.
We write for many reasons. We write in many places. Why and where do you write?
Great thoughts, Denise! I wish I’d written more of my kids’ questions and sayings down. I’m now trying to savor the stories from my 86-year-old dad. I never fail to learn something new when I visit him – or at least a new wrinkle on an old story.
Blessings!