I live a noisy life, despite how much I am learning that I love margin. I have three children who are now all in talking mode. We made a huge move from the slow south to the results-driven Silicon Valley (don’t get me wrong; people are people everywhere, but the hurry and the hustle are sure different). We’re in ministry, and though we wouldn’t do life any other way, sometimes the margin I try to create gets squished to the side if I’m not meticulous about guarding it.
There has always been a niggling desire inside of me to do life a little differently, and not just for the sake of being unique (though that does have such a pull, says this Enneagram 4). I have an almost neurotic need to know why we are doing what we do. I ache to live a life that aligns with what is most important to our family, with the way we are created, with our unique gifts and collective goals. And I desperately don’t want to get swallowed by productivity or blur through our days without noticing what’s happening.
As I said, it’s always been here under the surface, except for lately, it’s roaring at me with a ferocity I can’t ignore if I want to stay sane.
We’re in a new place, and the blank slate means we get to be more intentional, and the change in pace plus the pressure of transition means that we must be more intentional. I don’t know what will happen if we aren’t, but I know in our bones that it would be the end of the us we want to be. I’ll be writing about that, because I believe now more than ever that our stories are our gifts, and also it’s a whisper that keeps coming around — share your story. I’m finally listening.
So here I am. Blogging again in a world that tells me blogging is a dying craft (I’m a maverick, I know). Except this time, I care a whole lot less about who says what, because I just want to write. I need to write. Despite my willingness to throw it all away (don’t think I haven’t tried), to simply dig into my family and my home, there is an energy inside of me for creating. It seems that if I don’t use up that energy in some way, it sucks from all of my other reserves. It feels backwards, but I’m desperate enough to give this a try. I’ve learned that platform-building isn’t for me, but words are, and creative outlets are too.
You can find me here, if you want to read. I’ll be here often because, as I said, I have this creative energy I can’t seem to shake. You can subscribe so that it sends to your email if you’re really about it. I’m here because I love to write, because it helps me process, and because honestly, without a place to put them, the words become horribly introspective, self-aware of their self-awareness, and just a little bit indulgent. I need that mess in my life just about as much as I need more noise.
I am excited about the space to write and the stuff I’m sure to learn as I do it, and I’m excited to invite you in whenever you have a moment or need to get away from whatever your noise is. If you were really here with me, I’d invite you over to help me make dinner and sit on the couch with our family. We’re figuring out our thing, and you’re welcome here with us. I’d love to set the table for you and make it formal and pretty, but these days, we’re carrying our food there at the last minute, sometimes microwaving our dinner after the kids go to bed because we didn’t have time to finish our own meals while they were awake. And I’m just audacious enough to think that maybe you would rather see that side of it anyway, if you’re anything like me.