Blogging about not blogging...

There are times when I blog because I feel like I have something to say, and can't for the life of me, not say it.  Then there are the blog posts that come from life, things that make me laugh, or cry, or angry.  Somehow, I have been wired to have a strong desire to share all my notable experiences with others.  My readers can be thankful that I have learned a bit of restraint in this, because really, if it seems like I share too much info in my posts, you should hear what I don't share.  Ask Grace.  And my dearest friends.  They get all the stuff you guys are spared from.  Yeah, I know. Poor them. :)

If you are a long time reader, you have most likely noticed that I have occasional periods of silence on this blog.  To be honest, I don't understand it either.  It's not that my mind, or my spirit are silent.  Sometimes it's because the things that are preoccupying my mind are not things that I am free to share. It may be that I am too sad, or angry, or hurt, or confused or scared to make sense of words on the screen.  Part of my desire to guard my tongue when I am angry or hurt also means I have to guard my keyboard.  Like almost everything else that is given to us, my keyboard can be used to bless, or to hurt. For good or for evil.  Sometimes, my keyboard is silent because I cannot trust myself to write. 

When I am in this place, I could always do a Jean-Luc post, or something similarily light and silly, but I don't.  I think that is because I want to be authentic, and writing something silly to hide the fact that I am struggling with things that I can't express here feels false.  I want my readers to be able to trust that if I post something funny or silly, it is because I find joy in it, and am most likely giggling as I write.  I believe that the humorous posts are as important and meaningful as the more serious ones are.  Authenitcity is important to me. 

In these times, I come here, stare at the empty page, weighing whether or not I can really have fun with a puppy-sitting post, or do I need to close the page and try again tomorrow.  I am puppy-sitting.  Buddy is a 10 week old chihuahua. He is beyond adorable.  And at 6:00 a.m, he had me out on the front lawn in my housecoat, coaxing him to pee.  Trying to figure out if he had already peed.  So that I could go in and pee.

Ah, there I go again. Too much information.  If it's any consolation, that's all I've got.

Until tomorrow. When I try again.

Mothers & Daughters

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  It has been almost 18 years since I first became a mother.  It has been seven months since my mother died.  I have been incredibly blessed to be my daughter's mother, and to be my mother's daughter.  

I wanted to write some thing special, a poignant tribute to my mom, an ode of joy at being Grace's mom, but I feel strangely wordless.  

As a writer, life happens to me in words.  I joke about there being, within me, a mini-me hunched over a typewriter transcribing my life as I live it. 

This week-end, though, is so full of memories,
thoughts and feelings, and all I really want to do is remember, think and feel them.  My inner secretary is taking a break. So...

Happy Mother's Day, Mum.  Thank you for all that you have been and done for me.  Thank you for allowing me to see your mother's heart for me before you died.  When your life was ending, your thoughts were on us, your children. Our children.  I felt so cared for, so mothered.  I miss you, and I love you.

I also want to thank my beautiful daughter for making me the happiest mom in the world.  Thank you for laughing at my jokes, for listening to me tell the same stories over and over again, for not being too embarrassed of me in class,  for being a faithful, wise, loving disciple of Jesus Christ and for allowing Him to speak and love your world through you.  I am beyond glad to be a part of your world.  I love you, Chika.