A New Thing
Hello, there.
You've probably (not) noticed my virtual silence.
You're probably (or, again, not) wanting a nice, pretty post about why.
Well...
[Insert your favorite excuse here.]
Oh, the truth?
Truth is, the last time I sat to write here, I was crying within five minutes.
Returning to the States after my two years overseas was hard and, on certain days, gut-wrenching and lonely and sad. A big loud part of me felt homesick then. A much smaller, much quieter part of me still does.
But, fast forward (almost) six years, and I see that the ache I felt then has eased into contentment and the sorrow has transformed into rest.
I love the Dominican Republic, and I love the family I found there.
However.
That is not why I am here again...feeling self-conscious about it before I even post.
My plan is to do a new thing.
For the past few years, I have felt this recurring tug within me to write here.
Somedays that tug is a demanding nuisance that I ignore by cleaning or by organizing or by reading or by not cooking.
Somedays that tug is a small insistent pull, dragging me around like a giant dog on its leash taking me out for a walk.
Somedays that tug is a quiet nudge.
Fabulous, you probably say here out loud to yourself, so write!
Or, quit the nervous ramblings, and get on with it!
Better yet, goodness, child, why the extraneous detail? If this is how all your writing is, I'm going to need a bigger piece of pie.
Yikes, I respond.
Also, I say, pass the pie.
You aren't curious what the nudge asks me to write about?
It's rather a specific sort of nudge as most nudges tend to be.
(I'm surprised at how demure you are. I would be so nosy.)
For the past 12 years (give or take a few years), I have kept a journal.
Not one journal, obviously.
It would be ginormous.
Multiple journals have been kept.
Now, before you really dig into that pie thinking, finally, this is just the sordid type of blog I have been wanting from you.
Um, what.
-----
These weren't normal journals.
In fact, it's rare that I record any major details of what occurred that day. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't publish said details on the Internet...for anyone to look up and read...over and over again...for all time...
Rather, these were prayer journals.
Not the juicy ending anyone was hoping for, but nonetheless, the nudge must be obeyed.
And as awkward as I feel writing this very sentence (because truly I feel weird), the nudge has requested that I record these prayers here for you to read or disregard as your fancy leads you.
This is generally the part of the blog where I make grand commitments to write and post here every day, or to transform your life with my words, or to be funny and witty and clever, or to use this as a platform to start a podcast.
Ha!, I throw my head back with a mouth half-full of pie, ha!
I make no such commitments.
And, podcast, me?
Hilarious.
No, my only commitment will be to post little snippets of prayers for you to read in the morning or at night or (more than likely) as you are on your phone in the bathroom.
Great.
I commit to post with irregularity.
I commit to post with sincerity.
I commit to post until the nudge says, that's plenty thankyousomuch.
As such, I have renamed my blog with the most creative title I can come up with at 9 o'clock on a Monday night.
*crickets chirp*
My older posts from the Dominican Republic are still here.
Alive and well.
But not sordid.
Otherwise, this will be (fingers crossed) one of the longer posts you may read.
xoxo,
kme
You've probably (not) noticed my virtual silence.
You're probably (or, again, not) wanting a nice, pretty post about why.
Well...
[Insert your favorite excuse here.]
Oh, the truth?
Truth is, the last time I sat to write here, I was crying within five minutes.
Returning to the States after my two years overseas was hard and, on certain days, gut-wrenching and lonely and sad. A big loud part of me felt homesick then. A much smaller, much quieter part of me still does.
But, fast forward (almost) six years, and I see that the ache I felt then has eased into contentment and the sorrow has transformed into rest.
I love the Dominican Republic, and I love the family I found there.
However.
That is not why I am here again...feeling self-conscious about it before I even post.
My plan is to do a new thing.
For the past few years, I have felt this recurring tug within me to write here.
Somedays that tug is a demanding nuisance that I ignore by cleaning or by organizing or by reading or by not cooking.
Somedays that tug is a small insistent pull, dragging me around like a giant dog on its leash taking me out for a walk.
Somedays that tug is a quiet nudge.
Fabulous, you probably say here out loud to yourself, so write!
Or, quit the nervous ramblings, and get on with it!
Better yet, goodness, child, why the extraneous detail? If this is how all your writing is, I'm going to need a bigger piece of pie.
Yikes, I respond.
Also, I say, pass the pie.
You aren't curious what the nudge asks me to write about?
It's rather a specific sort of nudge as most nudges tend to be.
(I'm surprised at how demure you are. I would be so nosy.)
For the past 12 years (give or take a few years), I have kept a journal.
Not one journal, obviously.
It would be ginormous.
Multiple journals have been kept.
Now, before you really dig into that pie thinking, finally, this is just the sordid type of blog I have been wanting from you.
Um, what.
-----
These weren't normal journals.
In fact, it's rare that I record any major details of what occurred that day. And even if I did, I probably wouldn't publish said details on the Internet...for anyone to look up and read...over and over again...for all time...
Rather, these were prayer journals.
Not the juicy ending anyone was hoping for, but nonetheless, the nudge must be obeyed.
And as awkward as I feel writing this very sentence (because truly I feel weird), the nudge has requested that I record these prayers here for you to read or disregard as your fancy leads you.
This is generally the part of the blog where I make grand commitments to write and post here every day, or to transform your life with my words, or to be funny and witty and clever, or to use this as a platform to start a podcast.
Ha!, I throw my head back with a mouth half-full of pie, ha!
I make no such commitments.
And, podcast, me?
Hilarious.
No, my only commitment will be to post little snippets of prayers for you to read in the morning or at night or (more than likely) as you are on your phone in the bathroom.
Great.
I commit to post with irregularity.
I commit to post with sincerity.
I commit to post until the nudge says, that's plenty thankyousomuch.
As such, I have renamed my blog with the most creative title I can come up with at 9 o'clock on a Monday night.
*crickets chirp*
My older posts from the Dominican Republic are still here.
Alive and well.
But not sordid.
Otherwise, this will be (fingers crossed) one of the longer posts you may read.
xoxo,
kme
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