Monday, February 9, 2015

The Sound of Silence

It has been almost eight months since my last post.

Eight months.

In that time, we moved. My baby turned one. Jake started seminary. I began teaching again. Time has passed in a fairly unremarkable way. Eight months of regular days and loads of laundry and baby bath times. And while I would like to say that my reason for not posting is the lack of spectacularly interesting topics, that's not the real reason.

I like to be honest. I think honesty is one of the best gifts I can give as a writer, and sometimes honesty isn't easy. I have felt too weary for honesty. I have felt confused and hurt and angry. Those things are not easy to write about without pointing fingers, without placing blame. And because my mama raised me right,  if you can't say something nice...

Therefore, I have been silent. I have felt the weight of the silence. It has been tangible for me. I have been processing. I have been sitting back and just hoping to see some kind of clarity about our cross country journey that brought us back home. Basically home, anyway. Close enough to home. We are less than an hour away from both of our families. I can drive an hour and have coffee with some of the best girls I know. I don't always, but I can and that's important.

We have found a new church home. After a semester of spiritual rest at my dad's church, which is as familiar and comfortable as my parents' living room, Jake began searching for a new ministry and found a new job as a worship pastor. The people that make up our church family are kind and generous, and we feel right at home. We have a class filled with college students that we genuinely like. We are looking forward to learning them and also teaching them.

I have a teaching job that is perfect. I teach two days and week, and I get to be a mama the rest of the time. After a few months of having Jude in daycare in Delaware, I learned to be extra grateful for these moments. The daily grind of washing cloth diapers and cutting strawberries into tiny pieces and refilling sippy cups is sweetened significantly by the fact that I know what it feels like not to have these things. This is better. Time with him is better.

Tonight I am sitting at a coffee shop in Fort Worth with people that are much cooler than I. It just finished lesson planning for the week, and I am taking advantage of this rare, kid-free moment. I have on no makeup, and I am wearing a t-shirt and yoga pants. But no matter. I am not here to look cute. I am here to breathe. And to have really great coffee. And to write. Hopefully there will be more writing to come.

There are so many things to be thankful for. Last Saturday I met my mom and sisters for breakfast at Cracker Barrel. We live close enough to do that. Today I took a walk in the 70 degree sunshine (in February, people!) with my son and husband across the lovely campus where we live. Afterward, Jude and I went to the library. I searched for books on World War I, and Jude walked up and down the aisles, squealing loudly and throwing books onto the floor. Tomorrow night I will meet two of my siblings to practice singing at an upcoming event. This is what my family does, and it's nice to be right in the middle of it again.

Here they are, my words. I am okay. I am blessed. I don't need to be silent anymore.

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