Bless you, thank you for your kind words.
But from emails and texts, I’m afraid that I’ve alarmed some of you. I am doing well. I am coping– please don’t judge me. For me, part of healing is speaking the truth. I hurt every day; I’m happy every day. And the joy in my home usually far outweighs the pain.
More than once I’ve heard the complaint that my blog makes them depressed because my life is so charmed. I do have a happy little universe, but I also believe I have a talent for finding beauty in the ordinary. And it’s unfair for me to only show you the pretty, tidy parts of my world (though it’s somewhat unavoidable during birthday month). Yes, I’ll always write more about the joyful things in my life, but I want to share the pain too. And I want to know your hurts and joys, triumphs and sorrows– I’m not interested in surface relationships; I like to know whole people.
And so I’m a bit stuck– complaints when I talks about the happy and complaints when I reveal the sad. At least once a week I consider pulling the whole blog down.
As my friends and I entered high school we confessed how much we had struggled in junior high. We looked at one another and said, “Why didn’t we talk about our problems? We could have helped each other?”
I don’t want to get to the end of my life and say– “Why didn’t we talk about our problems? We could have helped each other?”
Several joyful events are on my horizon– Ben’s farewell, two miracle babies that I look forward to photographing, babysitting Kit and Kevin’s girls for a weekend, a quilt that I can scarcely wait to finish, Stefan’s birthday, a visit from my sister’s family… I also know there will also be hours in my closet when the pain is so harsh and deep that I gasp for breath.
And through it all, God will quietly bring forth His mighty work.