Aka I passed my thousandth blog post about a month ago, but I’ve had all my posts between now and then planned and scheduled and nowhere to plop this post except for right here. So here it is.
This is the point where most people plan some sort of link up or ginormous giveaway so that people will be impressed with their level of commitment.
But I stopped trying to impress you all a long time ago. So I’m not doing that.
Instead I’d like to invite you to go back to my first few posts with me. Back when I had a van full of car seats and pacifiers. When my fourth child existed, but was not yet on my radar. I don’t really want to think about what little Max’s life was like when I started this old bloggity. So we’ll just keep going.
I’d like to go back to those early posts and shove all those words back into my mouth. All the prideful whining about having 3 small children. All the failed lessons God tried to teach me through my struggles. Lessons that flew right over my head at the time.
I’d like to pretend that every single post I’ve shared with you was witty and charming. That I only shared words that made you stop and think about what you are doing and why. Life changing posts that spurred you towards Jesus.
But I know better. And I imagine you do also.
So instead of pretending I have my act together as a writer I’m going to point out that I don’t. And the proof is here for you to read. Selfish posts, angry posts, just plain boring posts. Posts that prove I’m not the person I was when I started putting these words together 8 years ago.
I’d like to think that in order for one to recognize her own growth, she has to recognize that she used to be full of crap.
Or so they say. Maybe. Ok, I just made that up. But it’s true. My words used to be crap. Perhaps they still are. But the difference between the me as a writer - now, and the me as a writer – then is the realization that I just might be full of crap.
And isn’t that the mark that we all shoot for, recognizing your own crappiness and trying your best to sensor it?
Here’s to less crap. Won’t you stay with me a few moments longer as I try to grow less crappy.