Tag Archives: i remember

Writing Me: I Remember {May}

Writing Me is Bigger Picture Blogs series of writing exercises created to help our community dive deeper into writing, grow creatively, and learn about ourselves and each other. This quarter we are writing from the prompt “I Remember…” and each week we will feature one of our community members.

This week’s post comes to us from May.

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They Loved Me Into Being

In 1997 Fred Rogers accepted a daytime Emmy declaring “all of us have special ones who have loved us into being”.  He urged the audience to take ten seconds to remember who had nurtured and encouraged them to become the people they had grown to be.  Because my life has been truly blessed, it is hard to fit all those people into ten seconds, but I do remember. I remember Hill City, Kansas in the 1960s and 70s.  I remember the Warners and the Gansels and other parents of friends who loved and guided me.

Marvin and Wanda Warner were two of the warmest people I ever knew.  Wanda nurtured by baking the most amazing things; she fed bodies while nourishing souls with genuine interest and encouragement as we told her stories around her dining room table.  Marvin, who insisted on calling me Puny following a bout with mononucleosis, never failed to greet me with a luminous smile that involved his entire face.  Both are gone now, but I remember.  Knowing them changed me for the better.

Bert and Mary Ann Gansel are still living in their house on West Street where I spent a good deal of time growing up.  They were at my mother’s funeral this spring, as kind and decent as ever.  As we talked, the years melted away and I remembered clearly all their friendship had meant to me.

I remember…

On a February day most likely in 1968, Mary Ann picked a bunch of us up at school; we were packed into the family car and headed to my friend Jean’s birthday party.  I was in the back on the driver’s side overwhelmed by the excitement as we pulled away from the elementary school.  I don’t remember my own birthday a week earlier, but I remember the low, deliberate pace of Mary Ann’s voice, a reassuring calm for an introverted child in a car loaded with exuberant little party-goers.

I remember…

In high school, we girls were members of a service organization and held positions on the officers’ cabinet.  Our business meetings were conducted in the officer’s homes with our mothers serving the entire group dinner.  I remember Mary Ann made chop suey when we met at Jean’s.  I can’t recall what office I held, but I do remember thinking Mary Ann was very bold to serve chop suey to a group of small town teens who had been raised on meat and potatoes.

I remember…

Each Easter Jean got to ask a friend to travel to the family cabin in Colorado for a long weekend get away that culminated with an Easter sunrise service in the mountains.  When it was my turn to join them, I remember that Bert and Mary Ann made me feel like there was no one in the world they would have rather had along on that trip.  We hiked mountain trails and waded in a crystal-clear frigid stream.  We ate ice cream sundaes at a soda shop and teased Jean relentlessly for swooning over an unkempt, ragged looking man we had passed on the way inside.  She was convinced he bore a striking resemblance to Robert Redford, and we laughed hysterically each time she asserted this fact.  I don’t remember the sunrise service on a mountain in the Rockies, but I do remember feeling like I was on top of the world.

So many years have passed.  I hardly remember the young girl they knew.  That uncertain, shy girl grew more confident and mature with time and experience having been shaped along the way by the Warners and the Gansels and others I have had the great good fortune to know in my lifetime.  Mr. Rogers was right; they did indeed love me into being.    They may no longer recall the kindness they showed me or how their example guided me, but I remember.  Oh, how I remember.

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May lives in Kansas where she was born and raised. She feels blessed to have been planted in the exact perfect place. The prairie restores her soul and influences her writing. She is a wife and mother of three barely adult children who have taught her much about life.

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Writing Me: I Remember {Adrienne}

Writing Me is Bigger Picture Blogs series of writing exercises created to help our community dive deeper into writing, grow creatively, and learn about ourselves and each other. This quarter we are writing from the prompt “I Remember…” and each week we will feature one of our community members.

This week’s post comes to us from Adrienne.

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I remember the dream fulfilled. Though I have no memory {no conscious memory} of the dreaming.

I remember that in those first moments alone with the brand-new-you, I too was made new.

I remember meeting your tiny feet, and knowing them as my own.

I remember the white of the sheets and your cottony soft swaddle.

I remember the quiet. And the morning light filtering through the hospital blinds.

I remember your wide awake eyes that seemed to listen and speak all at once…and that seemed bigger to me than half your little face. On that first, quiet morning your eyes invited me in to stay.

I remember the dream fulfilled.

I remember your early words and first steps, ever cautious, always clear and steady.

I remember the joy of walking with your tiny hand in mine.

I remember our face game. We’d sit for hours and mirror each other – starting with the “Oh” face,
we’d move through happy and silly and sad and mad…always ending with kisses.

I remember the dream fulfilled.

I remember when we met your brother. He was as noisy and restless as your were quiet and still.

I remember his cries, his chatter, his bumps and his bruises.

I remember watching you teach him. Anything. Everything.

I remember that the Little Mermaid grew into Dorothé, that Pooh grew into Power Rangers and
that they all turned into FRIENDS.

I remember the dream fulfilled.

I remember family dinners and holidays and devotionals and airplane trips.

I remember moving. A lot. And knowing that wherever we landed the four of us would always be there. Together.

I remember that church was “all that” and school was….well it just was.

I remember feeding friends, and driving friends, and finding friends sleeping on our couches.

Mostly, I remember loving all the friends and the activity that came with them!

I remember the dream fulfilled.

I remember first cameras, first trophies, first loves, first cars and first jobs.

I remember when you fit in, when you didn’t. When you cared. And when you didn’t.

I remember when I realized that you and your brother would always be best friends and

I remember when he stood next to you at your wedding.

I remember my early, Barbie playing days. The made up future me loved fashion, boyfriends, and her career. But never once was there a husband or any children. I didn’t know to dream of that. To dream of you.

I remember discovering my sweetest dream in its living – grateful that the keeper of dreams knew my heart better than I knew it myself.

I remember, and live, this dream fulfilled.

Adrienne is a 51 year old “empty nester” who loves scrapbooking, blogging, photography and camping. She shares her love for God, her family and her hobbies on her blog My Memory Art. Though it’s her job as office manager that helps ‘pay the rent’, it’s the creative, crafty stuff that she considers to be her real work.

Writing Me: I Remember {Jade}

Writing Me is Bigger Picture Blogs series of writing exercises created to help our community dive deeper into writing, grow creatively, and learn about ourselves and each other. This quarter we are writing from the prompt “I Remember…” and each week we will feature one of our community members.

This week’s post comes to us from Jade.

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I remember strength, rising on the basis of your conviction.
I remember fragility, in the tremor of your hand enfolding mine.
I remember warmth, in the crush of lips to brow.
I remember starlight, when you turned my way.
I remember freedom, because you offered release.
I remember honor, and the comforts you provide.
I remember childhood, because you gave it back to me.
I remember age, the stretch of time endless when you’re gone.
I remember forever-promises, birthed from hard lessons and difficult truths.
and I remember moments, because you taught me to see them there in front of me.
I remember laughter, because you showed me how.

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Care to join us? Write your own I Remember piece and link up here anytime!

Would you be willing to write for us? We have one spot left on our I Remember schedule… fill out this form and we’ll get back to you with the date!