Its been over a year since I blogged regularly. I was in the middle of writing a series on Calling, reflecting on my leadership journey over the years, trying to make sense of where I’d been, where I might be going. I’d just turned 40, so I was feeling all pensive and deep.
Then life happened, in that earthquaking, crack in the planet, kind of a way. The world that had been constructed, that we’d labored hard to build, crumbled to rubble and dust. Our small patch of dusty earth shook for months, jolting everything until even my heart and mind and soul were arrhythmic long after the shaking stopped.
Long after, the shaking stopped. And the stillness asked, What happens now?
Ever been in a place where you’ve needed to embrace a change you never asked for or saw coming? Ever had to rebuild a life, a career, a relationship that you didn’t know could fall apart?
I’ve heard it said to move on, you have to move through. I think they were talking about grief.
It makes sense to me. There comes a time when you can’t breathe or live in dust and rubble forever. You have to clear the way to a new beginning. Its hard work because in the rubble you’re reminded of everything you’ve lost and it hurts. Yet sometimes you uncover lost treasures. A memento, a photograph that your heart didn’t know it needed until you found it and held it so tightly, its impression on your hands reconnecting you , rebuilding you.
Then there are the miracles in the rubble, things, people, you never expected to see again. You don’t know how they survived; there is no other explanation than the word miracle . You realize again that you don’t fully know what the word means and you’ve been touched by His transcendence.
And there are flowers, saplings that fought through the cracks and the crevices, that defied the dust, and have begun to live. And they give hope, and remind you that you are still here and the story continues.
When I think about blogging again, having my own la di da website I think of these things.
In part it’s a moving through the rubble of a life interrupted.
It’s part memento – writing has always been a treasure for me, and I need to hold it tightly for a while,
Sure it’s a miracle (just ask the people who made me build a website and start blogging)
And it’s a my kind of flower, a bold, defiant yellow flower (I know my website is predominantly blue but go with it), that fought through the cracks and reminds me that tomorrow comes and the carousel keeps turning (that was for all you Grey’s fans. The rest of you: don’t judge me).
These are the stories and reflections I’m hoping to have here, week by week. Whether your world is still shaking, whether you’re clearing rubble or even if your world is perfectly serene, you’re welcome here and I look forward to getting to know you in this virtual world.