And then my 27th birthday came and I had another aha moment...my people loved me in ways that showed they knew me. Not just recognized me, but knew the ways I feel most celebrated. I had arrived! I was investing in authentic relationships. I was doing work that I felt fully called to do! 27 was going to be my year! (You see the set up here, right?)
And then my new little love showed up on the scene.
|9 Weeks...and in the thick of it for another 15.|
Also, I'm still terribly awkward at this. I missed the posing gene!
Was I still me if I wasn't a night owl? the one with the crazy schedule? the coworker always up for lunch? the girl confident with the way she looked? the host always up for opening her home?
And if I wasn't that person, could I still write? Could I write if I wasn't sure I knew myself anymore? Was there even a point?
And of course somewhere in the deep I knew the answer, but in the midst of being wrapped up in the meta, I forgot. I forgot that the good stuff, the words that stick, is rarely written from a place of knowing. It's written from a place of seeking. The writing can start without knowing where it's going to end up. But by going through the process, that sense of being known, the sense of knowing assures us that we've arrived.
So here we are, on the cusp of a big transition.
So, sweet boy of mine, your momma is going to flounder here for a bit. But I promise you, she'll keep writing to know and to be known and to show you there is joy in the seeking. Because God promises that whose who seek will find, and you can always trust our Jesus at his word. That I very much know.