When I talk to people about album making I try to distinguish between "scrapbooking" and "memory keeping."
For a great many people scrapbooking is a craft. The focus is on the decorative elements: the layout, the papers, the shapes, the enhancements. There's nothing wrong with that, but a hobby can be set aside when money or time or attention is short.
Memory keeping may include those elements, but the focus is on the stories: stories of our lives and families, our trials and triumphs, our doubts and testimonies. It is an activity fundamental to the health of the individual, the family and civilization. It is a skill more essential than cooking. Really. That's how important I think it is. There's no drive-thru for memories.
Looking through an album made in happier times -- or sadder -- can help us have perspective on our current circumstances. A teenager who looks through an album made with care by a parent may feel their love when communication may be strained. During times of grief albums featuring a lost love one can direct our attention to the many positive memories we shared rather than the recent sickness or loss.
Last year, after my diagnosis with leukemia, I started a new album. I called it "My Journey to Wellness." I was excited about resources I had found, optimistic about changes I was making and grateful for the support of my friends and loved ones. I showed it to my oncologist at my last visit. She asked me to take it to each appointment.
Through the late fall and winter my optimism flagged. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder; the shorter the days, the lower my energy and interest in life. This year stress over some painful circumstances in my life exacerbated the difficulties. I essentially crawled into a cave and pulled a comforter over my head. And stayed there. Emerging from that cave has been a slow, painful and not entirely successful process.
This week I pulled out my Wellness album again. I had to ... I'm seeing my oncologist next week, and I hadn't changed a thing since my last visit!
It's working. Looking through the album has reminded me of my optimism and excitement, my resources, my blessings. It has helped renew my interest in carrying out my plans.
Yesterday I spent several hours on the album. I sat in front of my patio door, in the sun. (Well, the sun was out when I started.... Clouds rolled in.) I have decided the content of each page. I've identified the photos to include and chosen the enhancements. I've looked up dates and recorded them on a timeline, included in the album.
I'm going to type up some of the longer journal entries on the computer. I know what I want to include in the rest.
I wish I could sum this up in some concise sound-bite to share with everyone who tells me, "Oh, I'm not into scrapbooking." I've learned that that usually means, "I do not have the time, money or interest to sit around cutting up colored paper." That's not what memory keeping is about.
For a great many people scrapbooking is a craft. The focus is on the decorative elements: the layout, the papers, the shapes, the enhancements. There's nothing wrong with that, but a hobby can be set aside when money or time or attention is short.
Memory keeping may include those elements, but the focus is on the stories: stories of our lives and families, our trials and triumphs, our doubts and testimonies. It is an activity fundamental to the health of the individual, the family and civilization. It is a skill more essential than cooking. Really. That's how important I think it is. There's no drive-thru for memories.
Looking through an album made in happier times -- or sadder -- can help us have perspective on our current circumstances. A teenager who looks through an album made with care by a parent may feel their love when communication may be strained. During times of grief albums featuring a lost love one can direct our attention to the many positive memories we shared rather than the recent sickness or loss.
Last year, after my diagnosis with leukemia, I started a new album. I called it "My Journey to Wellness." I was excited about resources I had found, optimistic about changes I was making and grateful for the support of my friends and loved ones. I showed it to my oncologist at my last visit. She asked me to take it to each appointment.
Through the late fall and winter my optimism flagged. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder; the shorter the days, the lower my energy and interest in life. This year stress over some painful circumstances in my life exacerbated the difficulties. I essentially crawled into a cave and pulled a comforter over my head. And stayed there. Emerging from that cave has been a slow, painful and not entirely successful process.
This week I pulled out my Wellness album again. I had to ... I'm seeing my oncologist next week, and I hadn't changed a thing since my last visit!
It's working. Looking through the album has reminded me of my optimism and excitement, my resources, my blessings. It has helped renew my interest in carrying out my plans.
Yesterday I spent several hours on the album. I sat in front of my patio door, in the sun. (Well, the sun was out when I started.... Clouds rolled in.) I have decided the content of each page. I've identified the photos to include and chosen the enhancements. I've looked up dates and recorded them on a timeline, included in the album.
I'm going to type up some of the longer journal entries on the computer. I know what I want to include in the rest.
I wish I could sum this up in some concise sound-bite to share with everyone who tells me, "Oh, I'm not into scrapbooking." I've learned that that usually means, "I do not have the time, money or interest to sit around cutting up colored paper." That's not what memory keeping is about.
It's about Deuteronomy 4:9.
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