Yesterday and today (and last week), I wrote blogs about dating and vaccines and whatever I was offended by at the moment of my writing. In each case, I deleted an hour’s worth of work and decided to write about a different topic. In addition to writing and deleting, I browsed some of my posts from earlier this year and 2021. The practice of reviewing my work often brings me to tears as I recall a specific moment of my life I’d otherwise forget. And while I cringe at the prose or spelling mistakes, I do not regret a single word or post. The process of composing, editing, and wrestling with words is fun and rewarding.

I’m glad I’m writing as much as I am- this blog is the most mine a thing can be. And, an odd but delightful facet in this process is I am no longer obsessed with the future of this website. What I mean by that is, I write because I want to write, to fill a blank space with thoughts and ideas. I even pay for this privilege ($26/month, thank you SquareSpace.) They say what we do for free is either something we love or an addiction. Having been addicted to a number of behaviors and substances, I can affirm it is love.

Who else would know such a fact about me but the Lord?