I can’t imagine there’s a lot you need to know about me – having your own colossal set of real life YOU and all life’s interesting accoutrements to accompany you. I’m writing this because sometimes I like to know something about the folks whose writing I read. It may help or interest you to know something about me. It may not.
First, thanks to my friend, Reg McClelland, for graciously allowing me to use his beautiful pictures. If Vanorvis Images is on the image, the credit goes to him.
I hope I’m not sappy, but am aware that I may come off that way as I like (what I consider to be) good things: happy endings, stories and notions of truth and beauty and love winning the day. And though I don’t like it, have to accept that having a blog points to at least some level of self-absorption, though I really hope to write something meaningful to you and helpful to you and not just me-ish, for me. (‘Cause what else would be the point?)
Some interesting stops for me have been: an appendectomy in the Andes Mountains, mosh pits, rehab, homelessness, singing in everything from classical choirs to punk rock bands, majoring in philosophy, and battling debilitating bouts with agoraphobia and anxiety. I’ve raised and preserved my own food, kept bees, and boiled sap for maple syrup. I’ve lived in a tent while raking wild blueberries in Maine and planting trees in Mississippi. I’ve witnessed miracles happen to street kids in St. Petersburg and pregnant mothers in Haiti. I’m crazy about words and books and the good power and potential of both. I also like being outside, comfortable clothes, and coffee. Preferably all at the same time. Though I don’t necessarily or always give in to it, I do tend towards excess; chemical, emotional, and otherwise. I’m the mother of 5 glorious people who I stay at home with and (hopefully) teach, am wife to Saint Gregory, think Tolkien and Lewis (among others) were geniuses, feel a little akin to a monastic way of life – even though I’m not Catholic – and am particularly drawn, it seems, to hyphens, prepositions, parentheses, and commas, probably in hopes that my overuse of punctuation will make up for whatever gaps there will inevitably be in word communication. All the while knowing, of course, that this is unreasonable but hoping you’ll “get me” all the same. I believe we are connected – or can be – (Maybe semicolons and colons too. I’m also a little [a lot?] scattered.) whether in reference to each other, the earth we inhabit, or the God who made it, this collective shared life is all of ours. Worthy of our best, worthy of the best meaning attaching we may place on it. Worthy of a fleshing out of that meaning attaching (not just words for words’ sake.). And though the world maybe wouldn’t need us, we might as well add our best to the whole scenario so long as we’re here (while finding out what our best is, of course). These are important distinctions to make, vital decisions for people who tend toward discontent, escapism, depression, and a sense of foreboding, of which I am (sadly but not doomed to be) one.
It needs to also and most importantly be mentioned that I believe that if there is any crumb of anything even remotely edifying or encouraging or relatable here, it’s because Jesus is good and that He has been gracious in sharing His goodness. I blunder along, too often self-absorbed, always wretched. But He remains Him. Good. And He shows up, quite in spite of me, to stay good – and true and lovely and praiseworthy and of good report – anyway. I don’t know why He does, but I love Him for it. And I hope you will too ’cause such a scandalous, impossible, pined-for-our-whole-lives transformative love is real and worth celebrating, worth sharing. I know. I’ve been without it. At any rate, I hope it shines through and that you’ll leave here better than you when you came. Thanks for visiting.