I've missed this place.
I've missed being able to sit down in front of my laptop to use words in an attempt to help crystallize my thoughts, feelings, and emotions on [insert topic here].
One would say it's my passion. And yet, I do it so sporadically.
I make excuses for myself. "I'm busy," or "I'm just not feeling it" are my favorites.
To be fair, the time that has passed between the previous post and this one has been eventful. I left one job on faith and scored a new one within the same week with a schedule that fits my ideal lifestyle better (Longer mornings to myself? Sign me up!). I celebrated my grandmother's birthday in Philly and saw family members that I hadn't seen in many years. As I write, I'm on the last day of a retreat that has been months in the making. Throughout and in-between it all, I have been encountering moments and miracles great and small, all worthy of their own post.
Still, I don't write about it.
I'm wrestling with the desire to share and the urge to keep some things for myself. Where do I draw the line between keeping private things private and being secretive or stingy with my experiences? Am I robbing people of encouragement by not sharing how I overcame this or got over that?
The jury is still out. I won't even promise that I'll start blogging more regularly, as this is a promise that I have broken one too many times.
What I will promise is this: when I do write, I will mean every single word.