The wise and gentle Ann of Holy Experience has a post up this morning about some blog-related questions I, too, have grappled with, am always grappling with—this summer more than ever, as I’ve wrestled with the question of how much to say about a new diagnosis my son received, one that was not exactly a surprise and yet was certainly a lot to take in, and which I very much want to write about (can’t imagine NOT writing about) for a number of reasons, but I have made myself tread slowly while I ponder the question of where the line is between frankness and invasion of privacy.
(Boy, how’s that for a run-on sentence?)
Ann explains why she shares secrets. Her reasons are very much akin to my reasons. Examining our lives helps us see them more clearly, live them more joyfully. Recording our stories is how I know I’ll remember them: the small moments that are so important because they, like the tiny pieces of a mosaic, are what come together to form the big picture of our lives.
And sharing the struggles, the successes, this is how we mothers help each other. Seeing the ways other women handle the broken tiles, the sharp corners, the dropped pieces, helps me to better discern how to sort through the jumble of tiles in my own hands and scattered at my feet.
Thanks for articulating it, Ann, and thank you for welcoming us into your kitchen, your fields, your good times and bad, so that we may be inspired by the mosaic you are piecing together with such tenderness and love.
Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
You Married for Love
In Which My Mattress Springs Heave a Sigh of Relief