Will Someone Read this 100 Years From Now?

I went to a dinner at church the other night that was all about extraordinary women in church history. A few women were chosen to get up and share a little bit about a women who inspired them. Their journals were shared and I felt inspired, uplifted and motivated to go home and do something good.

Instead, I went home and flopped into bed lamenting to my husband as I was falling to sleep, “What if my descendants read my blog one day and they aren’t inspired?” He smiled and said, “Don’t worry about that. Try and get some sleep.” And, I did.

But, I couldn’t help but think about this blog as I was listening to their inspiring journals. Would my blog (my online journal) inspire anyone? Or would it just look like one long complaint fest to those that read it in the future?

A quote was read from one of these women (Marjorie Hinckley) that I loved:

I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.

I love that. A woman I can relate to right there.

Here’s what I think if I were to put my Meredith twist on it:

I don’t want to walk up to the pearly gates with my designer jeans and purse, wearing heels and thinking about who is watching me enter. I want to walk up wearing my jeans and t-shirt from Target that have holes in them because they were cheap, and I could get diapers there too. I want to have food on my shirt because I scarfed down my food in five minutes flat so I could rush down to the computer during their nap time and blog about something cute my kids did that day. I want wrinkles around my eyes and mouth because I was able to laugh at myself. I want an indentation of my cell phone on my cheek because my friends and family knew I would really listen when they called. No matter how long it took. I want a mind full of the good and the bad memories. Because the bad ones are what makes me the strongest. I want a squishy body that my kids love to hug and cuddle. And spit up, or drool on my jeans because I always had a kid in my lap. I want permanently puckered lips from giving them a million kisses. I want mascara under my eyes because I cried a little too much, but only because I cared so much. I want to leave this earth showing my children that it is OK to have a bad day. It is OK to share your feelings. It is OK to be imperfect. I want the Lord to know that I do all of it for my children. Every last word I write is for them. I’m anxious because I don’t want bad things to happen to them. I joke about the messy room because life isn’t always perfect, yet we have to find the humor in it sometimes. I write it all down so I won’t forget and so others will know it’s important to follow your passions. I self-analyze because I want to be the best I can, and I want to walk into those pearly gates with confidence because I know I belong there. Not because I was perfect, but because I did my best with what the Lord gave me.

And, hopefully 100 years from now, I might just inspire someone out there too.