I started a blog.
And life has never been the same since.
141 posts later, I'm left wondering who I was before I became a blogger. Because writing here, sharing my heart, my life, my journey with God--this is me. This is who I am.
I am the girl who writes poetry and prose. The girl who photographs every blooming thing in sight. The girl who crochets and paints and creates. The girl who loves God but struggles and falls and fails.
But more than all of that, I am the girl who wants to lay everything on the table. The girl who longs to give people a glimpse into the heart of this woman He created. The girl who desperately hopes her story will speak into the lives around her.
And here at Growing Is Beautiful, this is the place where all of that happens. This is the place where I am me.
It hasn't been any easy road. Not by any means. The writing rarely comes without wrestling with myself, with God, with a life that defies understanding. But in that exhausting struggle to open myself up, I find Truth and Grace and God Himself.
And Joy. So much Joy.
All but the last 6 months of these two years have been full of loss, full of grief, full of soul-wrenching brokenness. And still I count them as blessing. Because these are the two years I have been writing, opening, living. These are the two years I have been me.
And I am deeply grateful for all of it.
Thank you for letting me be me. Thank you for hearing my heart, for welcoming my story, for joining me on this hard road full of brokenness and beauty.
And to the One Who is authoring all our lives I whisper, "Thank You for writing this story. Even in the pain, the suffering, the deep loss--I wouldn't trade any of it away if it meant You wouldn't be the One behind all of this, all of me. You are my life. You are my story. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
355. Yellow-gold of willow tree branches still barren
356. Spontaneous detour to Scriber Lake Park
357. Red traffic lights, giving time to appreciate the moment
358. Elderly woman beneath brightly-colored umbrella, making the trek from car to store
359. Children riding coin-operated horses at the grocery store entrance
360. Getting ready for the weekly date with a dear friend
361. Cupboards and fridge stocked full, ready for the week ahead
362. Tree-branch reflections in glass
363. Peony sprouts poking up through wet soil
364. Afternoon sun following torrential downpours
365. Laughing with a friend
366. Finding warmth under a blanket still in the making
367. Thunder, hail, and heavy rain on a Tuesday afternoon
368. Bread pudding baking in the oven
369. Standing in front of the last amaryllis bloom, trying to memorize the moment
370. Productivity coming before 8 am
371. Playground turned wading pool by heavy rains the last week of winter
372. Yellow-daffodil happiness lining the sidewalk
373. Clouds laid out across a bright blue sky like a watercolor painting
374. Three little birds bobbing in the neighbor's gutter, searching for food.
375. Cat in search of snuggles
376. Seeing God in the clock numbers
377. Spring-colored mugs lined up on the shelf
378. Strawberries and whipped cream layered over scone
379. Cloudless sky the day before Spring's beginning.
380. Red maple trees all abloom
381. Trading out flannel sheets for floral--bold step towards the new season
382. Room warmed by afternoon sun and cloudless sky
383. Saturday afternoon nap
384. First day of Spring, finally here
385. Neighbor's magnolia tree pregnant with blooms
386. One clump of daffodils blooming beside a freeway on-ramp
387. Blog decorated for Spring with cherry blossoms and blue sky
388. Cat tromping across me to find the perfect spot in bed
389. Yellow and green apron, all ruffled and hilarious
390. Nearing the end of an art project, months in the making
391. French toast with strawberries on a Sunday morning
392. Clean clothes, clean floors, house back in order
393. Star magnolia in the front yard, just starting to break bud
394. Knowing the names of trees as I drive past them
395. One cat on either side of me, purring loud while I remember the day and write down gifts
396. Two years of writing
397. Two years of becoming
398. Two years of blessing I never saw coming
399. All the words He's let me write
400. All the people who've read them
401. But mostly and always, the One Who is writing my story every moment of this life