I've spent the last few years away from this page because to be honest, the blog world intimidates me. For one thing, my standards are too high. I tell myself I have to capture each and every meaningful moment and I have to fill in the blanks for anything I've missed over the last few years. I compare myself to others like my incredibly gifted bestie or those with remarkably intimate stories about the struggles and heartache they've walked through.
But today I had an epiphany as I looked down at my precious baby boy covered in sweet potatoes, a band-aid on each chubby thigh, a spoon in his mouth, a foot on the table, a super cool spiked 'do and that little precocious grin. I have a story worth telling. At times I question the significance of the words I write and the moments I try to capture. I wonder if they are worthy of an audience. But the truth is, my story does matter. I must trust it is being written by the Author of all things. He has invested eternity in me. He has given me a loving husband. He has blessed me with a new generation. It's a journey worth recording.
So, I will write. I can't say how often. I can't promise the subjects will be profound or witty or strikingly significant but they will be real. Real moments. Sweet potatoes, boo boos, chubby thighs, spiked hair and all.
