…not to blog. That sure seems the question lately. In truth, I miss being here, and yet a part of me has felt the need to close off–if only a little. There is just so much sharing that can (or perhaps, should) be done with the world, you know? And sometimes there are seasons when life feels almost wholeheartedly introspective. My life, as it goes, has wandered down this kind of path as of late.

I am not trying to be distant, of course. Nor do I want to avoid one of the things I most emphatically love–putting pen to the page. But I am processing in a different kind of way, mostly as I wander through the farmer’s market and as I drag my toes through the sand at the beach with our little boy. Some days, I find a pinch of time for a cup of coffee, at an outside table, on my own, and then I process a little bit more there. From our front step to the store and back. From our back patio to a play date and then home again. Life has been busy with the things that Summer should be–many of them filling up the cracks and spaces of a previously dormant-ish and sort of gloomy Spring for my soul.

You could say I’ve been attempting to take a little bit of an emotional vacation.

And for the most part, it is working. This is not to say that I don’t want and or need to be honest and open and real with myself or those who love and understand me best. Just simply to reflect that in times, the quiet of saying nothing feels healthier than the loud of saying much. There is a learning curve involved here for a chatterboxy type like yours truly. I am ever-increasingly OK with that.

Now it is nearly July, and I have been making the most of tracking my soon-to-be fourteen month old’s little pitter-pattery foot steps all throughout the little blue house. Oh, have we discovered our freedom–and in it, I have discovered even more and more of a beautiful friend in this petite person who is half me and half my first (and other) love. It is no surprise, really, that we get along so well. I just never imagined exactly how delightful I would find a smallish boy named Henry at this age. He is the sunshiniest joy on most every occasion, and when he isn’t, he teaches me the most important things about loving and patience and perseverance and all of qualities I long and strive to possess as a mom (and person). On a daily basis, we read stacks of books and take lazy strolls to the park and downtown and anywhere we want to go. We explore food, notice every (and I mean, every) flower, absorb the sunshine and splash at the pool. And when we aren’t doing those things we (read: Henry) nap and we (read: mommy) work and pick up and take a short rest and make phone calls and pay bills and cook meals and schedule visits, until we’re ready to engage in more Summer activity and merriment.

Children are the best medicine. Yep, I think this is positively true.

Today we played I Spy in the grocery store, planned party details for a summery, baby soiree, crunched on snow peas and fed food to the dog from our high chair. For the rest of the day, we will likely make easy dinner (because it’s just the two of us tonight) and mosey downtown to watch jugglers and guitarists and possibly bring home a balloon animal. How does life become this, and where do I get more of it?

I haven’t been blogging much because life was feeling inconveniently uncomfortable for a while, and in the midst of that, I gathered up one hundred and one other things to do. Not to be so busy that I would ignore the rest, but just to find joy in the middle of the ache–to make sweet lemonade from sour grapes.

And that is what we are doing. Moving forward. Attempting to fill our days with goodnesses and grace and all the rest that a loving God can offer our lives–even when we hurt and need time for healing. I am finding joy in smaller things that add up to lovely measurements of healthy, daily living. I am hugging my Henry with a good, tight squeeze. I am soaking up the Summertime, for certain, and filling up the empty spaces with words where I can.

today, i can.

mm