Scars

I fell a lot as a little kid.  My mom says that she cried the first time my little knees kissed the sidewalk.  My knees bear the battle scars of jumping rope, climbing trees, and playing endless games with my little sister.  I remember being embarrassed about my knees, as a teen.  I didn't want anyone to see.  I thought they were ugly.

I'm older now, and I have more scars.  There's the one on my foot that I got while on an eighth grade field trip.  I have one on my right hand from the day I was baking Christmas cookies with my mom, and my hand touched the rack.

I no longer see my scars as something to hide.  My scars tell a story.  They remind me of good times and not so good times.  I don't think I would trade them for anything.

At the Beach

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with how blessed I am. I know that there are many on this earth who don't get to experience 1/10th of the things that I do.  The things that I take for granted are their idea of luxuries.  I don't know why I was created to live this life, but I recognize these blessings as a gift.

I'm on vacation with my family right now in Myrtle Beach.  Vacations like this are full of frivolities.  We go out to eat for nearly every meal.  We've already spent hours lounging in the various pools at the resort.  We drove way out of the way to indulge in overpriced ice cream.  We've blown hard earned money on must-have trinkets at the local boutiques.  Tomorrow we will allow the sun to kiss our shoulders as we dip our toes in the ocean and find shells in the sand.

These are the days that take my breath away.

Oh Look: It's 2011!

As Cathy would say, "Ack!"  This blog has gotten so dusty that I'd almost forgotten the URL!

I want to promise to be a better blogger.  Perhaps putting the shortcut back on my bookmark bar might help?