Somehow, I’ve managed to “forget” to blog for about a month now.
It’s interesting, the way time works. I recently told somebody that I’m not really sure what I’m doing to fill my days; a year ago, I was working full-time, jogging regularly, blogging every day, and preparing for an adoption in addition to the regular activities required to keep a home and maintain relationships. Now? Now, I’m working three days a week, I’m no longer jogging (I kept it up for the first few months, but it felt too strange with a pregnant belly – I wasn’t enough of a die-hard to continue), and as for blogging, well, you can see for yourself how that has gone. What am I doing with my time? I lamented to her, and she pointed out that my body is busy growing and nurturing a small human being, a task which should not be taken lightly. She has a point, of course, and this baby does seem to be taking a disproportionate amount of my energy lately, so perhaps I will accept her explanation.
So there’s that reason for having this space be silent for so long. But there’s another reason, one that is, perhaps, a bit deeper and says more about me and who I am and the nature of the art of storytelling in the twenty-first century, and that’s this:
It may not always be obvious, but when I come to this space, I often try to focus on the deeper things. I write to wrestle, to work my way through the questions and the hard places, to remind myself to be present and alive and aware of the lessons and beauty in the world around me. And so, this blog – like anything else presented on social media – is not a complete picture, not all there is to see. With my friends and loved ones, with those I see on a regular basis, there is real life in all its glory – the silly and serious moments, the joyful and the sad, the pristine and the messy – but here, in this quiet corner of the web, you only see a part.
Normally, this partial view would not bother me much. I would be conscious of it, of course, and do my best to ensure I was not painting an inaccurate view of myself and my life. But now, with where I am today? With where I am today, the truth is this: six months after saying goodbye to our little girl, I am still wrestling with it all. The deep things, the questions, the hard places, the lessons, those things which compel me to write – these still, for the most part, center around the pain and the loss and the why, even after half a year, even with the joy of a sweet baby girl on the way.
So when I come to this place, when I sit with my fingers poised over the keyboard, these are the thoughts that come to mind, these are the topics that rise to the surface, and I don’t want to be one of those people, one of those who dwell in their pain and cannot move on – or worse, are blinded to the suffering of others, one of those who only ever speak of one thing, one of those who are unable to see joy and beauty for the hurt they carry in their hearts. I don’t want to be one of those people, and in real life, I do not think that I am. In real life, I joke and smile and laugh and tease, I look forward to the things that are to come, I have joy. In real life, the good days far outweigh the bad, the moments of thankfulness and worship come much more frequently than those of questions and doubt and hurt. But those hard moments come, still, and they are hard to face, and the nature of this space and how I use it mean they show up here. Often, they are the only moments that show up here. (And, truth be told, when they aren’t, when one day I blog about something serious and deep and the next I share something goofy or silly, there’s a weird feel to it to me, as though I’m trivializing the hard things with my frivolity).
I’ve wrestled with this, fought with it, not knowing how to resolve it, not knowing what to say, and so this space has remained silent. In the past month, however, I’ve come to realize that I need this space, I need the place to be able to wrestle, I need to continue to write even when it feels as though I am saying the same thing over and over again.
And so, I guess I would ask for patience if and when it seems as though I only ever think about one thing. Know that I am okay – that I am better than okay, that I am abundantly blessed – but that there are still questions and doubts and hard things that will pop up here from time to time. Know that this blog is only a sampling of my thoughts and emotions. Know that my life is good and that I am not dwelling in the past.
And I will try to let go of my fear of what you might think of me or how things might appear and allow myself the freedom to write.