Photo: It is Autumn here in Massachusetts. Beauty abound. You can’t help but look up and say “ooo” and “aaah” and know how lucky you are to live in a place like this.
I have not written for a few weeks. I have been breathlessly busy since school started and, according to my calendar, respite is long-coming and brief when it arrives.
What have I been doing? Working for the bookstore, driving the boys to all of the many things, working on church projects and starting a new job as a consultant for the Church. Somehow, I’ve managed to fit in laundry, meals, grocery shopping, and bathroom scrubbing. Laughter, crafting, drinks, and fellowship have also been squeezed in. And I’ve been writing my novel thanks to a wonderful, functional writing group that I’ve created. Thanks to them, I’ve got about 25,000 words under my belt for my project. I’m only a third of the way done, but I’ve got momentum.
When I started this blog back in late 2012, I was a mom of two infants… sleep-deprived, lonely, and a touch bored. We moms aren’t supposed to talk about those things: the loneliness of early motherhood, the boredom that can sometimes come with it.This was my intellectual exercise three times a week and I relished it. Many of you found me right at that beginning and have stuck with me for the whole while. You watched my babies turn into toddlers turn into real, actual boys. You watched me cobble together typo-filled run-ons and boldly naive declarations into purposeful sentences and posts that I’m proud of. This has been my training ground and my diary, a memoir written one week at a time.
Ultimately, what has come of this space is everything that I have: wonderful friends near and far, new jobs that trust my skill and require me to think, opportunities for my boys to grow and thrive, and opportunities for me to do the same. I started this blog with nothing. I walk away* with everything. Gratitude doesn’t begin to describe what I feel when I think about that.
I put a little asterisk next to walking away because I’m not fully doing that. I still dream of being a real writer with real books on a real shelf somewhere. I work on that every day, and I get closer by the mile. They tell modern writers to have a “platform” and an “audience.” Well, these are things I have. It would be silly to let them go. This space is not going to disappear. It’s going to get cleaned up and rearranged, but not go anywhere.
And I’m not going to stop posting. However, I will no longer post on a regular schedule. I’ll post when things come up that are worth posting. I pray that’s more often than not.
So I invite you to visit me whenever you’re in want of a little affirmation, or if you’re wondering what’s going on in a little corner of Massachusetts. Or, sign-up at the bottom of my page to get emails when I post. Or follow me on the Twitters so you can see when I post.
Now matter what you do, please wish me luck.
This isn’t goodbye. It’s a brief farewell, I hope. A sabbatical. A time to go on the typical hero’s journey which, as you well know, is circular. It is my prayer that I’ll walk away from this space only to discover it’s all I wanted all along. And I’ll be before for it. Worthy of it. With time to do good things with it.
I cannot close this post without saying thank you. Thank you, Dear Reader, for trusting me with your time three days a week for so many weeks. Thank you for caring about my boys enough to check in to see what they are up to. Thank you for caring about me–just some woman in some place in the world. Thank you to Leah and Britt and MarneyMae and Tikeetha, and Finn and Trish, and Meredith for being early, often, and steadfast supporters of my little place on the net. Thank you to the dear friends who read me over email and text me about my words. Thank you to my many Canadian readers, who have always been so loving and kind. I swear I’m going up there to visit sooner rather than later.
And thank you to the Muse who started it all. I owe you everything and everything. Debts so great I’ll never be able to repay. But when I earn my first book publication, I’ll try.
I have so many wishes for you, Dear Reader, and there is no time or space to write them all. But I will leave you with what I tell you every week:
You are loved. You are loved so fiercely and so dearly and so deeply and for no other reason than you are. You exist. You breathe. You are. There is someone who is thinking about you right now and feels better about being in the world because they know you are in it. What you do in this world matters. Every time you walk into a room, you make it easier for someone else to be who they are and do what they do. In a world so deeply dark, in a time when hopelessness seems to reign supreme, you stand out and hold back the darkness for someone in the world. Even if they never take the opportunity to tell you, know it in your heart because it’s true. You are loved. What you do in the world matters. Shine brightly against the darkness and know that your light shines with so many others.
Until I see you next, and I pray that really is soon: shine brightly, sing loudly, be kind, be fierce, love deeply, walk proudly, and take care.