Becky Emerick

Becky Emerick

Mar 232007

Last night we had quite the thunderstorm. The light show started about an hour ahead of the rain. Nathan, my one-year-old, woke up saying, “Ma Ma!” and wanted to look out the window. He must take after his daddy – he was fascinated. “Dight! Ooooh!” I brought him to bed with me, and we tried to settle in.

I have to admit that although I’ll bravely drive out with Lee to watch a storm come in or reassure my children that everything is fine, inside I’m a little girl hiding under my covers! I’m really not a fan. I agree with the Psalmist, “I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm.”

As the thunder rolled louder, I began wondering when my fear of storms and tornadoes started. Could it be from the movie “The Wizard of Oz” where poor Dorothy loses her entire home and gets transported into another land?

I decided that I would comfort my children when they watched it by explaining that houses really can’t fly over the rainbow.

Although, in actuality, I think they can get close…

(If you really want to know the rabbit trail my mind went on, I’ll continue.)

Then I realized that Dorothy all along said, “I want to go home!” And at the end, she had to tap her ruby slippers and say, “There’s no place like home.”

But in reality, where was her home? It was in Oz! It landed on the witch, Dorothy, remember? Why didn’t a Lollipop Kid say, “Oh, the way to your home is… well, just turn around and look at it.”

Perhaps they needed a catchy slogan for the end, and it doesn’t sound as nice to say, “There’s no place like the place back where my family is…” or “There’s no place like my farm with my Aunt and Uncle and the hired help…”

Either way, this train of thought led me away from the storms and into a peaceful sleep. So I guess I can be thankful for “The Wizard of Oz” after all.

Mar 222007

Last week I ran across a box filled with all of my old journals. The excessive habit started when I was 8 with my first diary. I wrote about wanting a Cabbage Patch for Christmas and the woes of not sitting next to my best friend in class anymore. The writing continued all through school. One summer in Junior High I wrote every single day. The idea was that at the end of the summer my friend and I would trade diaries and read them. Most entries are very boring, containing elements like what I ate for breakfast or the fact that I didn’t want to clean my room. At the end of the summer, the trade never happened, but I have a faithful record of the entire 3 months.

In highschool I had to write every day during a sememster for a Creative Writing Class. By this time, my skills had improved and it is filled with silly poetry, character sketches, and insightful thoughts. Of course, it was just an assigment, and I also filled many days with uninteresting accounts of what I read on the back of a rice cake package.

In 9th grade I started writing a journal to my future husband, in hopes that he would one day read it. I rambled on and on about the events of my social life, highschool woes, and family challenges. I often enjoyed thinking about the kind of man he would be, his interests, his ambitions. I imagined my life in all different situations, with a scientist, artist, pastor, etc.

As I’ve gotten older, I have journals for each of my children and various prayer journals, but there hasn’t been much time to write for “fun.”

I’ve always wanted to Blog, but I had hesitated because I wondered, “Who would read it?” Now I know, however, that it isn’t about who reads it. It is about me expressing myself in writing – something that has always been important to me. I have dozens of notebooks filled with my random thoughts that no one probably cares about. Even the two notebooks to my future husband have never been read by him! 🙂

So my blogging will begin! And if you’ve read this far, then maybe my thoughts will one day be read afterall…