Once upon a time I was a blogger.
Not a great blogger or a frequent blogger. Not one with fancy graphics or an easy-to-navigate layout. But it was my little space on the internet; my safe-haven for feelings and thoughts that longed to escape the confines of my nearly-always-spinning mind. I wrote about things that made me laugh and parenting moments etched on my heart for eternity, and my faith and my friends and the ridiculous adventures of finding particular pant styles and my reflections on the world around me – just trying to sort it all through.
And then blogging hurt me.
So I did the only thing I knew to do with the pain and just forced the door shut. It wasn't worth it anymore.
The problem is that the words were still there. My heart was still there. Paralyzed by a straightjacket of fear.
I spent a long time trying to convince myself that I was better off living under that fear. That I simply wasn't strong enough to open myself up again to the possibility of hurt.
I had forgotten two important things. That He has not given me a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7). And that He is made strong in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
And so here I am again. Trembling fingers gently wiping the dust off of this web address. Choosing to trust not in my anxieties, but in the hope of He who has given me a love for the written word. And more importantly, who desires that I learn to lay my fears at His feet.
Here we go again.