My Craft : Journaling

Happiness is powerful. Happiness is the ultimate shapeshifter; for it holds no absolute form or exact definition for every 7 billion people on earth. Each form of happiness is at the hands of the individual. For me, I have always found my most joyful moments when I was doing my craft of journaling. There is something so therapeutic about writing out your thoughts at the end of the day and marking those moments in time. Once I put my daughter to bed; I grab my tea, grab my journal, my colored pencils, my craft paper, and my crafting scissors, and get to work. Each page of my journal is so different. Some have very little decorations, to some having full paper mache glued across the page. Each page a stamp in time of that day's mood. I craft my imperfect days into perfect memories. My craft has always been my love for journaling and design. I’d never been a confident public speaker, but with a pen and a piece of paper, I felt like I was left with endless possibilities of what I could write about; It was my art form, my stress release, my purest form of happiness. I’d like to share some of my favorite memories throughout my years of journaling.

January 1st, 2017

I stood in the bathroom shaking as I looked at my 20-year-old self in the mirror. I had used every precaution possible up to this moment, so how could I be experiencing the exact scenario I had worked so hard to avoid. Thoughts of confusion continued to run through my head as I stood in the bathroom of my parents' house staring at the 99 cent pregnancy test I had bought earlier. Still, in a daze, I reached for my dad's bread grooming scissors I knew he kept under the sink. With one snip of the packaging, the white and pink stick laid in my, still shaking hand. I took the test and sat in silent fear as the 10 minutes passed. I remember sitting on the counter staring at those grooming scissors with pure focus as if they were the object that would tell me my fate. Instantly the silence was broken with the sound of my phone alarm, alerting me that my results were ready. Pregnant.

July 27th, 2017

I walked into the nursery I had been nesting for the past week. My feet were swollen with my 7-month pregnancy weight weighing down on them. I would come into the nursery anytime I needed to “think” during my pregnancy. It felt peaceful for me; like the only room, my hormones weren’t raging. I would often find myself getting creative in this room. I would pick up my craft scissor and just create anything that popped into my mama-bear mind of mine. One day I spent hours cutting out pictures of baby animals I found for sale on google, and backing the pictures onto paper, and framing them. Another day I’d be down on my hands and knees with my trusty scissors measuring and cutting fabric for the baby blanket I wanted to have to wrap my baby in on the delivery day. Whatever the project was, I would always be smiling as I was working on it. As the days got closer to the delivery, I mainly just sat in the armchair and rocked. I envisioned myself holding my baby. I couldn’t believe it, it was going to be a girl.

September 16th, 2017

I sat on the hospital bed and watched as the three nurses came to my side and positioned themselves on either side of my body; One at each of my legs and the other standing at my feet. “Ready to pushed Rachel?” One of them asked me. I was in a bit of a trance at the shock of the moment. The trance was broken when I heard the nurse say again, “Rachel give me a big push on three.” I pushed for what seemed like hours, I was tired, alone, and emotional, and in the exact moment I felt like giving up, I heard it, my daughter's cries. She was here. I’m a mother. I lifted my head as high I could to see what was happening. The doctor grabbed the pair of medical scissors and in one beautiful swipe, cut the umbilical cord. “What's her name?” The doctor asked. "Aurora Lyn," I cried.

May 9th, 2021

I stood in the kitchen working on breakfast for my daughter and myself; when a very out-of-breath 3 year old ran to my side. “Mom I need scissors please!” She asked. To be completely honest, when your 3-year-old asks for scissors your attention is peaked. “Aurora what is the rule of the house; Scissors are tools, not toys. Remember?” With the best 3-year-old attitude she could give me, she replied, “ I know mom! I am using them as a tool! It’s for a craft!” With full reluctance, I handed her the child-safe scissors from above the fridge and watched her little hands hold on to them tightly as she walked to the flower pot we had in the kitchen window-seat planter. I saw her carefully examine the flowers and proceeded to cut 5 flowers. She walked back to me with scissors and flowers in hand and handed them both to me. “See mom! Tools, not toys.” She grinned, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!”

Happiness isn’t one exact thing for me, happiness for me changes from year to year, day to day, and even hour by hour. But my happiness is there. I find it in little moments every day that blossom into never-changing memories. These are the moments that “cut” out and molded me into who I am today. But they aren’t my last beautiful memories because more are sure to come, and for that I am grateful. That is what is so beautiful about crafting, is that its abilities are endless; and with endless ability, comes endless possibilities of happiness. Whatever someone’s craft may be; Whether they hold crafting scissors, cooking scissors, medical scissors, garden scissors, etc. All crafts have one major thing in common and that’s the smile they bring to the creator.