Time is a funny thing. You know how something gets in the distant past to the point where it no longer feels like you, but you looking at yourself from the outside? I’m starting to feel that way about this blog.
This blog has been a gift to me. I started it the month Josiah was born as a way to share our life with family and friends while overseas. Through the years it has become more than a means of communication. It has been a space where I’ve navigated the waters of motherhood with many waves and ripples along the way. In a “job” with no set hours, evaluations, professional development or salary, I needed a way to process the chaos and mundane of my days. Was I doing a good job, failing miserably? Did my energy from the day amount to anything? This blog helped me to see through the blurry fog of mothering littles and sift out the gold.
Some days with my children felt beautiful and rich, while others were mind- numbing or just plain exasperating. This blog tells both sides of the story. Through the gift of recording my quirky stories, milestones events, thoughts and (sometimes over- blown) emotions, I was able to savor the moments. Pausing to pound out some words and post a couple photos helped me to treasure the precious, holy moments with my babies, toddlers, preschoolers and children. It cemented small moments in my permanent memory that would otherwise have slipped away, and it gave me a precious written record of this season.
Life moves on. Communication and Social Media change. My role as a mom shifts. The blog posts crawled to a halt and I know that this season for the blog is over. A journal and paper could have never accomplished what this blog did. The other gift this blog gave to me was community. Cheerleaders leaving comments, giving feedback and encouraging our family along the way. I’m so grateful for the friends and family who took time to visit this space. A song writer I admire, Christa Wells, sings “islands are great to visit but I have found we aren’t meant to live alone.” I’m so thankful for those who reminded me I was wasn’t alone even on days when I never left the house. Thank you.