A Dusting of the Cobwebs: Gift of writting...

A Dusting of the Cobwebs....

welcome to my blog!
...allow me a brief introduction...

In a reacent conversation with my daughter, her questions were why I, and her Dad were so quiet about our lifes? Meaning writing or telling about our own personal historys.

I didn't think there was anything important to write about. As I was just a normal person, getting up in the morning and getting the day started, getting kids off to school, or meeting schedules of the whole family, cleaning house, and landry. Keeping little ones busy, and changing diapers, comming home fixing dinner, helping with homework, putting kids to bed, watch some news, go to bed. And then do it all over again the next day. Then some days was teaching lessons in Primary, RS, MIA, Sundayschool, cub scouts, or helping at schools, ect. Family home evening, Visiting teaching, and even some Home teaching and being the family schaefer. most of the time we had one car, 6 kids, one working husband. Oh yes, the multi years of music lessons, and baseball teams, coaching, and even one major jumproap champion, for one daughter.

We had trials too. some were very hard, just thinking about a single memory of losing our son, brings tears. But we are told that this life is to meet trials, and how we handle them will be for our own eternal growth.

A very wise Stake President, President Alred, once said "We are here to be schooled in the principles of eternity. We will work by the sweat of our brow, to work our way through this life... But remember we are here to be schooled in the principles of eternity."

So, I welcome you to my blog. Please feel free to stay and go as you please, and wander where you wish. And, as always, feel comfortable in sharing those stories that you may feel are just "an every day" thing as well...

Showing posts with label Gift of writting.... Show all posts

Mar 4, 2014

My Other Journals....

I have other Journals

A small Red Book, years from 1977 to 1991
A Franklin Quest, notes and Journal from 1992 (small pages) to 1994
A Large Maroon colored book, from 1992 to 2001
A book made from my Blog, A Dusting of the Cobwebs, 2007 to 2013

Jan 23, 2009

The Old Peach Tree...10-14-99...

Outside my bedroom window stands a old peach tree. It is dwarf in nature, compared to regular size trees. It has seen many seasons change, in the past 20 years, or more. This one seems to be rushing faster, than all the others.

There is something very peaceful about this tree.
I love to watch the changes that come to it. At this time, its extra long leaves are starting to turn orange underneath, on the inside of the tree. As I watch, a gentle breeze blows some of the orange leaves away, falling on the ground in different places.

Sometimes I see bits of blue sky, where green use to be. I am not looking forward to seeing him loose all his leaves, which will soon come.
For it is time for this one to sleep.

Even though his branches will be empty and bare, there is still beauty here. And spring promises, pink blossoms, just around the corner.

With its branches almost touching my window, I share the pleasure of the old twisted cracked limbs, ...with a variety of birds, who come.
I love the humming birds, and the songs they sing. And Baby, one little blue parakeet, who thinks this tree is his, and loves it, just as much as I do.

Nov 29, 2007

Beauty...

Beauty is watching my very beautiful 16 year old girl, with golden hair, playing her viola. Such serious studying and concentration. I watch her fingers fly ever so fast and lightly over the strings. Her hand seems to have a dance of its own. Giving, coaxing, such beautiful sounds from the wonders of the singing wood.

She is sitting at the piano while playing the viola this evening, sitting so tall and graceful. Her graceful golden hair moving with her body movements, as the viola bow races back and forth across the strings.

She loves to play fast. The wonderful mastered sounds, are heard, as she allows the instrument to sing in beautiful rich slow movements of the music. Yes,Beauty is watching her grow, and seeing her as she becomes a wonderful young lady. Glowingly--she turns her head, and smiles.

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It's not how brilliant the chords sound,
Or how fast your fingers run.
It's not the grandness of the stage,
Or the large number of people who listen.
It's not how much more impressive you play,
or the greatness of the sound.
But it's the heart's desire to sing and play
What one has to give to another....Jen

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