Sheesh... it's been 5+ months already since Lylah entered our picture. And more than that since my last blog. I was never very consistent at this task and adding a baby to the mix makes me that much less.
Blogging is sorta like journaling to me. And I used to be a fabulous journaler (not a word, I know). It was part of my nightly routine until Jason came along (guess he's my distraction). I do think one day I'll regret dropping the habit. I imagine myself, old and crinkly, drinking prune juice and reflecting on life's journey. Picking up my old journals to read them with the same excitement I would have if reading a novel (maybe more)... reading through all the ups and downs of life, the joys, the pains... the times when I was confused by God, the times when I was in complete awe of Him... laughing at my immaturity but reading of how God brought me through the "drama" of life- the big and little things. Totally wrapped up in the story and memories, but then... blank pages... silence, silence, silence. Nothing was written of my husband (my gift from God)... or of my baby girl (our little miracle), or of our torturous but adventurous house renovation, of our days at Forest Springs... the list goes on and on. Maybe after reflecting on this today I'll pick up the habit again (wishful thinking? time will tell...)
I think journaling can be a testimony... either to myself or to who knows who. I can read through my journals and be reminded of God's faithfulness through my yuck. And yes, that's already happened- I love reading through old journals. And who knows who else will read my writing rants. Maybe no one... maybe a random stranger... maybe a family member. But my life is a story. A short one to be sure, but one that hopefully points towards the goodness of God at every turn.
Yes... I should pick it up again. And you should pick it up too (yes, this suggestion is coming from a journaling hypocrite). Blogging is nice but isn't the same. Something about paper and ink is way better.
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