HERE GOES...SOMETHING

The first step is often the hardest.

I opened up the blog and sat down to write multiple times over the summer. Each time, I thought I had something to write, but then I would end up staring blankly at my computer. Nothing. Just...nothing. My heart and my mind were numb.

It has been a difficult summer.

Today, once again, I find there is nothing. But today, I refuse the nothingness. Today, I will write, a first faltering stutter after a too-long silence. So, here goes...something.

I posted a couple of years ago about the difficulty of making "space to be human." You can read that post HERE. And if you are curious: I did learn to set more appropriate work boundaries, and I now have a lovely job that allows more time for doing "human" things.

On that note, I want to share a few small ways that I have enjoyed being human recently -

This summer, I registered for and completed my first-ever seminary classes. The coursework was incredibly challenging and I was way out of my league among the other students. Still, I felt like a fish in water, albeit a very small fish in very deep water. I enjoyed every lecture, every assignment, and every small group discussion. Second term begins Monday. I can't wait!

Over the past couple of months, I was given three of the most encouraging compliments that I have ever received:

• "You are one of the most humble people I know." (When I asked a friend to pray that God would humble me deeply and show me clearly my dependence on Him. BTW - do NOT pray that prayer unless you really, really mean it. God will answer, and it won't be easy.)
• "You are a very strong person." (From a co-worker who knows something of the difficulties of recent months.)
• "That is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." (In sixty-one years, no one has ever said that about me. Every woman should hear those words spoken about her at least once in her life. It made me cry.)

Today, I have celebrated being human in small ways. I had breakfast with my family. I enjoyed a personal yoga session with Mr. Ron. I washed mine and Mom's laundry and changed our bed linens. I wrote a letter to a friend. I sat on the porch swing and read another chapter in a book. I made BLT's for lunch; this evening, I am making gumbo for dinner, Daddy's recipe.

And I wrote.