Turning

Today was an interesting day for me - in a dozen small ways, and no big ones. I like days like that.

I started out by sleeping in, which wasn't particularly bright, but I guess I needed the rejuvenation after the busyness of the weekend. Our house was in need of major rejuvenation as well, so I started out sort-of-right-away by cleaning and organizing my room.

Cami's and my room. I need to remember that. Particularly before moving all the furniture around.

Maybe next time.

Anyway, that took awhile, what with all the papers I had to sort, and all the other distracting things I found to go through and dream about. It was rather satisfying when it was finished, however, even though I kind of think the previous furniture arrangement was somewhat superior. The way I see it, monotony is a curse more terrible than most of its remedies.

I wandered around for the rest of the afternoon, starting something, noticing something else nearby that needed done, abandoning my earlier occupation to start that, running something downstairs only to be distracted by something else . . . somehow a mountain of laundry got folded in the midst of all that, and I showered and the second half of a truckload of dishes got washed (Mom did the first half).

Life went on, I answered a couple of emails, ate supper, cleaned up. Then I sat down to work on snazzing up a new blog I was designing, and got distracted reading other peoples' blogs.

(What? Ritalin? Where? Oh, look! Asparagus!)

I know a number of people who write really beautiful stuff, and several of them see fit to share some of their treasures with the world by blogging. I've blogged myself (sporadically, and usually minus the beauty factor) for a few years - first on xanga (those were the good old days), and more recently on blogger (and sometimes facebook, too).

Some blogs make me think - like those written by older (not old) sisters in the Lord, or mature, godly peers. Essays and poems, reflections on life, insights.

Some blogs make me think a lot - like the ones pastors write, or people with lots of education and strong opinions. Theology and politics, worldviews, applications, conundrums.

Some blogs don't make me think at all - grade school journal types, mostly about how it's been awhile since I posted, I don't really have anything to say, more next time.

But tonight I stumbled upon a blog that didn't just make my head think - it inspired my heart to hope. Not in a big way, but in a dozen small ways. Not because of an epic post highlighting a truth that had never before reached my consciousness, but because of dozens of ordinary posts, each one a little beam of light reflecting off another facet of a life transformed by grace.

And I realized, this is the sort of joy I want to spill out into the world. I've seen it before, but I really needed it tonight, and there it was - like moon shadows on the carpet - delight where I didn't expect it.

So that's why I'm back downstairs at 2:00 in the morning. I've decided to try really hard to reform my erratic sleeping habits - but tonight there were too many thoughts, and I absolutely could not sleep until I'd written some of them down, for fear of losing them before dawn.

It might have something to do, too, with the fact that things are in all the wrong places in my room now, and even in the dark it feels weird.

In any case, it's good I came back down, because on the way through the kitchen I saw that Mom's rice pudding had gotten left out on the counter (I plead only partially guilty).

So I put it away.

But anyway, that's what this new blog is supposed to be - the hopeful chronicle of one girl's journey from guilt through grace to a life of gratitude, and one day, on to glory. (I can't stand alliteration . . . why did I say that?)

Better yet, it's the story of my slowly becoming what I'm supposed to be, carried along by the power and love of the God who is. Maybe writing here will help me see things more clearly in the long run. Maybe it will help you somehow. Maybe you can help me. I hope it glorifies my Lord.

Come with me on this journey. We don't have to travel alone.