Last month, I wrote a post providing an opportunity for those smaller bloggers
{those with less than 500 followers}
to have a space to guest post here at Holy Craft.
I was overwhelmed with the response.
Mostly because I set the post to go live while we were on our Great Midwest Trip, and I was flooded with e-mails while I was on vacation!
I was thrilled though, that so many of you were interested in taking the time to share some of your thoughts with my readers.
Our first guest blogger is a dear sweet friend of mine who I have never really met in real life.
Louise is a caring mom of four and a writer who paints amazing word pictures.
We "met" nearly a dozen years ago in a moms message board and through the years her generously caring spirit shines through in her writing. I'm thankful for facebook, her blog and instagram for a way to connect with Louise and her family.
Today I am honoured {for my Canadian friends!} to welcome Louise from Late Night Plays.

What’s in a story?
Louise sees her family’s life through a storyteller’s lens. She
began blogging to practice her writing and develop a collection of family
memories. We love her stories because they allow us to see the day-to-day
moments of motherhood in a different perspective. This blog is for moms who are
fans of poetic writing and the narrative voice ~ savvymoms.ca
Late Night Plays is my story catcher, dream
saver, and family album.
At least that's what I wanted it to be.
It grew into a space that inspires others to do the same.
Let's start at the beginning.
+++++++
I entered into motherhood determined it would be as magical as
I imagined.
There was joy in first words, first steps, and first days of
school—but the beautiful moments that hide in the ordinary were getting
lost.
By the time I had three kids under the age of four, I was
stretched thin and letting resentment sneak in.
I trudged through many of my days—beautiful babies pulling and
tugging at me—stepping over and around the magic that swirled at my feet.
And then, on a particularly long and challenging day, I
played a DVD of family movie clips to break up the boredom.
Everything changed—I had always considered those clips
something for me.
But I watched with amazement as my children devoured their
stories. I saw how much they meant to them.
{Snapshot}
One of my favorite childhood photos is of my mom bathing me in
our front room. I've always felt I could see her love in that frame. And I knew
my dad, on the other side of the camera, must have seen it, too.
Each time we brought a new baby home, I would make it a habit
to tell them stories about what they were like when they were babies. It helped
each of them adjust to a new sibling; by hearing they once needed me the same
way.
Tell me what I was like, Mama.
I knew hiding in that question there was a need to know how I
felt about them.
And the joy in re-telling those moments was mutual—the memories
filled me up, too.
+++++++
Finally, I made the decision to write them down.
And I knew I wanted to do more than just tell the story; I had
to put myself in the narrative.
I would look for perspective, and fill the spaces between the
lines with love and wisdom and hope.
My children will be able to return to this time capsule, and
find themselves.
But they will also find me. The real and honest me.
They will know what I was thinking and feeling in those
moments.
They will understand that I struggled and triumphed.
They will know these years with them, were the greatest in my
life.
They will know it is a privilege to be their parent.
I look for stories in my every day now. I look past the
birthdays and milestones for our quiet moments, too.
And under this microscope, the ordinary is magnified enough to
see beauty, poignancy, and truth.
I write letters to my children, for a time when they won't be
as eager to hear advice from me firsthand.
I tell them about the love story that created our family, with
the hope that it will help them find their own way when it comes to love.
Recently, I read a compelling opinion piece in the New York Times about the importance of
storytelling within families.
And I was reassured that the time I've dedicated to my blog has
been well-spent.
Whether you write online or in a journal, or share at
gatherings around the kitchen table...tell your family stories. Don't leave out
the hard stuff, either. Share all of it, so you can look back and see how far
you've come together.
+++++++
Thank you, Rachel, for giving me a space to share my
experience.
And thank you, readers, for taking the time to read about my
journey.
I would be honored to hear from you and have you join me on my
storytelling mission.
Louise





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