Restoration & Starting Over

IMG_7736.JPGWhen we first moved into our apartment, a lovely couple from our new church gave us this beautiful pot of flowers outside our front door. I was so touched and felt especially welcomed by this gift. I genuinely appreciated these flowers and yet in the busyness off unpacking and settling in, I could not for the life of me remember to water these flowers. And so, in the Santa Barbara warmth, this beautiful pot of flowers promptly died after about a week. Sadly, I still kept this pot, full of dead flowers, outside our door for at least a month and a half. For some reason, I held on to this crazy idea that one day I’d take the time to try and rehabilitate them, but I never seemed to get around to it. Then, in mid-September, I was given a packet of wildflower seeds. As soon as I saw the seeds, I knew that I wanted to plant them in the pot outside our front door. And so, a few days later, I finally decided to examine the poor pot of flowers that I had previously neglected for over a month.
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To start a blog or to not start a blog…

The thought of starting a blog terrifies me, yet again and again I have come across this idea and felt compelled to just give it a try. I’ve fought this feeling for years, doubting that my thoughts and ideas had any value, refusing to let myself believe my words could ever have any sort of impact. And well, maybe they still won’t, maybe this blog will remain hidden in obscurity in the vast world of the Internet. And quite honestly, I would be okay with that, because at the very least, I will have finally released these thoughts that have been trapped in my head for far to long. At last, these ideas will be free to run wild in the World Wide Web.

My husband has been bugging me to write for years. Even back when we were just dating, he somehow saw something in me that I wasn’t quite ready to embrace and every now and then he’d give me a gentle nudge and encourage me. “You should write a book”, or “you should start a blog”, he’d say after hearing me passionately spew a thread of thoughts about who knows what. But every time I would shrug it off. I didn’t want to be just another self-consumed millennial longing for my voice to be heard or thinking that I was somehow given profound revelations that needed to be read by the whole world. No, I was perfectly fine keeping my ideas to myself.

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