Wow, it’s been 10 years. A decade. No, not since I was the size of jeans I desire to be [although, now that I think about it, yes, 10 years is a pretty accurate statement for that too, RIP size 0, we will never, ever meet again], but since I’ve written. Like, actually written. Not a 3 sentence caption on Facebook exclaiming “how cute!” the 33rd Amazon sweater is that I tried on for the day. I’m not saying it’s not cute, but also, it’s the 33rd sweater I’ve tried on with stripes and the same ribbed edging, so you know. 

I’ve missed it here. I’ve missed the space I created 14 years ago to share my life. And sure, times have changed, we have the attention span of a cat that just jumped into a puddle of water, I know long form content “isn’t cool” [aka, our brains are just simply not capable of holding the same string of thoughts for more than one finger scroll], however, in the words of my favorite genie in a bottle, Christina Aguilera, what a girl wants, what a girl gets. And this girl wants to write. 

It’s crazy how Jesus works. A few days ago, I was driving along post-therapy session, pondering what my therapist had said. We were talking about how I’ve lost agency over my life in many regards [this is another story for another day, come back when you feel like digesting another one of my long-winded thoughts] and how, ultimately, I am not feeling challenged, or fueled, by what I do anymore. Sure, Shawn likes to remind me that the UPS driver who just dropped off that same 33rd sweater may also not have a deep passion for delivering a middle-aged, can’t stop shopping, woman her 33rd package of the day, [but also, maybe they are passionate about that?], but alas, I am craving more. So here I am, pondering, what does enjoying the work I do look like these days? What’s next? How can I use my mind and creativity in the way that I used to? So I started praying. And I asked Him that if there is something I should consider, put it in front of me. Give me signs. And mostly, for me to pay attention along the way. 

This was on a Thursday. On Saturday afternoon, I found myself working at Shop Living in Yellow [something I’ve done maaaaaybe 2 other times in the past 2 years of it being open], and out of “nowhere” a woman comes up to the counter and has to tell me how much she loved my writing. How my early blog posts inspired her to write. And how she misses my writing. Reminder, I haven’t written “written” in 10 years. The minute she started speaking this to me, I felt a light flip on in my insides [you know, the same way Belly [okay fine, me] feels when Conrad takes off his shirt before heading out for a swim] and I gently whispered “thank you Jesus” internally. 

But that’s not all, folks. Monday of this week, I’m mid-meeting and I receive a very random text from a very random friend/relative who asks if I’ve ever considered writing a book. EXCUSE ME? You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence. Now, does this mean I’m going to be the next Junie B Jones author? Well, maybe [gosh, I love that little girl and her big fat mouth]. But also, maybe not. 

However, the moral of the story, I think the man upstairs has a hunch that writing may bring me a little bit of zest again. And while I still haven’t quite figured out how to zest a lemon [is this a real thing people do? I have to know..] I do know how to sprinkle my life with goodness when I feel so called to do so. 

And so here we are. Denying the way of the internet. Proving to myself that I have it in me. That my fingers still know how to click a keyboard. That my brain has thoughts that can make it further than a 30 second IG story clip, and that maybe, just maybe, if I pick up this habit again, this outlet that once breathed so much joy into every crevice of my body [I know, I just took it a tad too far, it’s the word crevice, isn’t it?] has the same ability to do it again.

Here’s to doing the thing that you feel called to do.