Eleanors Living Diary
Poetic reflections, tender truths, and storytelling straight from the soul of Eleanor Grace—one diary page at a time.
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The House With No Blueprint
From my beautiful flower garden,you will see glowing arched windows appear on the second floor—but inside, they are nowhere to be found. You enter through heavy, hand-carved oak doors,their iron hinges moaning like old violins… And then—the relaxing sounds of… Continue reading
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The One Thing That Waits
On my to-do listthere is always one thingthat remains untouched. Clean Your Closet. It arrives underlined,sometimes twice,so it knows I mean business. The task is simpleand impossibleat the same time. I tell myself I will do it tomorrow. But tomorrow… Continue reading
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To Complain or Not to Complain
I complain about nothing small.Small things do not trouble me.I complain about nothing politely. I complain—though perhaps that is not the word. Once, it simply meant saying:this hurts,this isn’t right,truth refusing to stay quiet. Somewhere along the way, it soured—recast… Continue reading
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It’s Time That Teaches Us How to Listen…
It’s Time That Teaches Us How to Listen The more time we spend in Scripture,we learn it doesn’t just inform us—it forms us. Those roots don’t rush.They settle deep into our thoughts, our responses, our speech,quietly shaping our hearts and… Continue reading
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Jumping Into the Past: Jeans and Me
Wow, this is such a cool way to reminisce. It’s funny how certain things from our past stick with us. For a minute, I thought there was nothing. I wasn’t attached to dolls or toys, so I assumed this prompt… Continue reading
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Sole Mates — The Second Sock Store
The Problem Every home has a drawer full of lonely socks.Every dryer has never been held accountable.No one is taking responsibility. Until now. Sole Mates Sole Mates is a retail store dedicated exclusively to single socks—specifically the abandoned, widowed, mysteriously… Continue reading
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Remembering Is to Live Again
What has been lived does not dissolve;it persists, asking to be remembered,tugging at my sleeve with borrowed sighs. Time, I have learned, does not proceed cleanly forward.It folds.It sneaks in. Some people want to outrun time.I sit with it.I ask… Continue reading
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The Place That Shows Up With Me
My perfect space isn’t something I build.It doesn’t have walls or windows or a door I need to close behind me. I can’t imagine waiting on a room or a piece of furniture in order to write, as if words,… Continue reading
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The One Who Sleeps Through The Waves
There are storms that roar in which I have no control, storms that roar like they have permission. Winds that arrive without warning, and my spirit asks quietly, “Lord… am I still safe?” But lately, I’ve been learning something in… Continue reading
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No Brush Hair Day – The Declaration
We, the unbrushed and unapologetic, hereby declare one sacred day each year to lay down our brushes. It’s about learning to like yourself even when your reflection looks like tangles, frizz, and cowlicks—just heads full of stories that refuse to… Continue reading
...The Rest Is His Story 