Ben started it. And there really is no one to finish it. So here we are - Ben, my husband of about a month, and I - hoping to commit to writing twenty minutes each day. Maybe this will turn into memoirs of newlyweds in their first year or the blabberings of unemployed educated early thirty year olds - choose your poison.

Ben read the synopsis of Donald Miller's new book to me yesterday. A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Miller "attempts to edit his life journey into a better story." Leonard Sweet, in a review of the book says, "It shows us how stories define us even more than our genes do." (I really do hope this is the case because my jeans are currently on the verge of a hole where they rub together between my legs and they are embarrassingly designer ones I got a two for one sale). I think of this as Ben and I venture into writing these blogs.

Last night, while eating the remaining rhubarb cobbler Ben baked, we watched "The Brother's Bloom," rented from that glorious Red Box at the local Lucky's. And this "living in the story you choose to write" theme emerged as the movie is about an elder brother who writes the cons like stories for his younger brother to play the central role. The con becomes the reality and everyone gets what they want. Perhaps it's the memory of our lives that shape it more so than the actual events themselves, if one can make such a distinction.

I have been fascinated for a long time now about how we remember our lives, recall our own stories. The story of remembrance shared over a cup of wine and broken bread captivates me. How do I daily live out and live in this memory? Mostly I write to remind myself. I write to remember the in between it all and I invite you - whoever you are- to do so with me.