As many of you know The Angora Chronicles got started by several people encouraging me to tell some of the stories of my growing up years. I had about four dozen stories that I’d written several years ago, just mainly as a way to leave something behind for my sons and grandkids, telling them about what life was like in my early years.

That only seemed important because it wasn’t likely that anyone else would ever do it for me. Besides if anyone tried, they wouldn’t tell it like it really happened. I’m the only person on earth that knows my story. You are the only person that knows your story. Only Presidents and really famous people will have others writing about them. I know I’ll never be famous and even if I was, I question whether anyone is left that doesn’t just write a bunch of fiction, as long as it suits their need.

Some may say “does it really matter if your story is told”? To me it did. It matters more, the older I get. There just seems to be so much changing in our lives right now, from every direction. I want my kids to know that life can be so much more simple than it is now. I want them to know that I too had struggles, but I kept pushing on. It’s important for me to tell them not to take everything so serious, yet don’t take what you have for granted.

I want my children to understand the importance of friendships, but everyone you encounter isn’t always your friend. I want them to see that even when friendships become strained, they can be repaired. Don’t ever give up on friendship.

Writing and telling all isn’t for everyone. It probably isn’t for most. But I encourage everyone to write stories about your experiences, the good ones and bad ones. Share them with the world or stick them in your Family Bible or in an old trunk or put them with other important papers. Because your story is important. Someone will be excited to hear what you had to say.

Don’t be that person that your kids look back on and say “I wish I had gotten momma to tell me what life was like“. Or “Daddy had so many great stories. I wish I had written them down“. If they don’t have time to sit down with you now and listen to your stories and write them out, they will have time to read them one day, but it may be after you are gone.

Tell me you don’t want those left behind shedding a tear and laughing out loud when they read what you left behind. I know I personally want them to remember me. I’m just that selfish. I don’t mind if it’s a mixture of crying and laughter. It will mean I touched them in some ways.