And from up out of the woods, a bluebird sang...

“What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time." - Virginia Woolf

I have but long since considered blogging. Honestly, I have never really been one to jump head first into the popular social trends of my generation. I often find myself like a little kid at the swimming pool on the first day of summer, sticking my big toe in and testing the water's temperature. Is it fear of the unknown? Is it just being annoyed with the quote-unquote status quo? Who knows? At any rate, I am one who waits on trying such things. Consider Facebook for just a moment. Back in college, I heard about the social network through the friends I was making in my classes and wondered what it was. Months later after the buzzing conversations about it had died down to a normal, steady, low-pitched hum, I gave in to it...only to find out that I was not just a few months but a few YEARS behind the times! Oh well.

At any rate, I believe I have learned how to listen to the natural rhythms of my own life, to rise and set like the sun in my own unique cadence, and to trust myself in those things. So, the consideration to blog has certainly been on the back burner of my mind for some time now...and as one of my dear friends said today, "Stop considering. Do it. It's time." He is right. When Grace comes to you and whispers in your ear, inviting you into living fully, one would really be a crazy person to tell her to shut up. Today, I feel the joy to write about my life, so I am not just testing these waters...the time has come to dive straight in.

Why do I even care about blogging? My blog will be about me -- about my insanely beautiful, vibrant, overflowing life. There is just so much to be thankful for, so much to ponder upon, so much to consider...so many graces to count. I write because I must do it. There is a deep compulsion inside of me that says "yes"...you could say it is a calling, or you could call it a beckoning, an urging. Whatever it is, I must answer it. I believe that God has given us so much beauty in our lives...I believe that His love is full and overflowing out of everything that I hold dear and precious to me, even right down to the taste of my daddy's butter-fried eggs. I also believe that there are the graces -- love, joy, peace, hope, faith -- to be found in the places we may not ever think to look...even the mysterious, unknown places that invite us into adventure yet frighten us all at the same time. Could these lovely graces possibly be hidden in such deep, dark places, too? Looking through the pages of my short life's story, I would say "most definitely yes". To be a new soul -- one who has been transformed radically by Love -- on an old journey is to seek out the ancient pathways...how do I live the way I was created to, the way I was made to see it and enjoy it fully in this post-modern age? How do I actually do life?

This is why I want to write...I want to behold Him, in all that He is, to see Him and know Him as He truly is seen and known. The compulsion inside of me to write is the longing, the desire to know Love Himself, no matter what kind of season or time I am in. He is everywhere, and I don't want to miss out on Him at all. Furthermore, I must remember these places where I have found Him. My mind is so small, my attention span so short, my memory so scattered sometimes...and then there's my heart. My heart is very weak and fickle sometimes...she can forget the One she loves very quickly when the weather turns bad. Friends of God long ago built altars of thankfulness, just to remember His goodness, faithfulness and insanely gracious love. So, I suppose in a way, this history book, this journal, this little blog about my own heart's journey with Him is more for me to remain thankful until I take my last shallow breath on this side of Eternity.

It is pretty cool to just tell your story and allow others to see and know who you are and what you are doing with your life. I am pleased to open up the treasure chest of my heart to you, the reader...I pray that something that I am given, something that I stumble upon graciously, something that charges and excites me, something that personally means something to me is like fresh, warm bread to you. Surely, it will be that for me first, and as Papa Ken Helser says, "You cannot give anything that you don't already have." I write for my own heart's need to just know my Love, yet I understand that He likes to invite others to be changed somehow by what has changed you.

And really...at the end of the day, why do I blog? Because I really do love to write.

That's why.