“Am I too ridiculous, trying to write on this blog…again? Am I just doing it because “everyone is doing it?”
For now, my goal is to simply write. Not gain followers…certainly not to impress anyone. Just to write. Yes, some of those other less attractive motives are also lurking… [but] I am attempting to deny them satisfaction or disappointment by keeping this endeavor a somewhat-private one for now.”
And so my blogging journey began (again), a year ago today. Again because I have definitely flirted with blogging before (here’s a blast from the past…), but usually after a while I have given up. I am proud of and grateful to myself for sticking with this so far. I am often uncertain of my motives, the validity of my ideas and even the necessity of my words in a world already so filled with so many words. But I am absolutely certain in this: Writing allows me to live and grow connected with and aware of my soul. Which is why I’m doing it.
Of course, I do love having an audience as well. (This post really resonated with me!) But I didn’t even give my husband a link to the blog until I’d been writing at least a month, maybe more. Knowing that real people are reading (particularly people I know and whose opinions I value!) has challenged my resolve to write honestly and without fear. It’s good for me, albeit often intimidating. Thank God for sisters who text about how amazing a particular blog post was when it was “the one” I felt was shabby and unkempt and ridiculous. It’s true though, that I am most blessed by others in their authenticity. I don’t want to hear the right words about a topic. I want to hear real words. And so I want to write real words.
But enough of writing about writing. In celebration of a year of blogging, here is a recap of some of my favorite posts [(26) letter to my niece, (23) longing, (55) this strange gift, (57) palm sunday eve, (37) a bit of everything] and some favorite moments, phrases and questions from this year of processing/journaling/writing:
The knobby tips of carrots just rounded above the soil, a million nasturtium blossoms crawling everywhere, the damp fuzzy smell of tomato plants, bunches of chamomile and lavender, towering sunflower, bright sunset-colored dahlia blooms, a multitude of roses on the bush that looked like it was dying… The garden is saving my life right now. [from (12) what is saving your life right now?)
We celebrated victory, listened to stories, laughed at funny jokes, accents, and general silliness. We touched my sister’s belly and whispered love through the greenhouse walls where the newest member of the family is preparing to burst forth into our lives…We came together as family, as friends, to feed each other and share life together, even if only for a few nights. [from (11) catching up]
What if this “being,” this “who I am” is not the mistake, but rather the meant-to-be? What if the messiness is exactly where I am meant to be, exactly who I am to be right now? What if Jesus is in the mess with me? [from (5) tears in the dark]
Longing, longing, longing for Jesus, for hope, for everything to be made new, for a long, long table with laughter and friends and stories and food and sharing, where I can hold their babies and sing and get up and dance and never leave…I cannot wait to sit at that long table. [from (14) hold. on.)
We gather to hear more, to listen longer, because we have all already heard just enough of the music of grace to whet our appetite for more, in laughter, in stories, in care expressed, in tears shared. Look at how grace brings us together. [from (34) grace]
Thank you for joining me in this strange and beautiful journey.