And so, I make my entrance into the world of social media and launch my blog.
My blog. It sounds so big. It sounds so self aggrandizing. It sounds a bit ominous. And yet...
There is a small voice that is whispering inside my head, some siren song almost too soft to hear, that this is OK. I can write. I can dip and dive into my head and heart, learn something about me, something about you, something about God and grace and life. It's all good, as they say.
I can write, and you can read--- or not. But I can write. In fact, I think I have to write. This is my way, the only way I have found yet, where I can find a way to bridge that unending chasm that stretches between my head and my heart. This is my rant, my prayer, my soapbox. This is my treasure map, I think, where I will scribble in the details as they appear: the dragon lairs that lay dank and dark and befuddle me; the quicksand that masquerades as solid footing, waiting to snag my wandering feet; the havens and resting spots, bits of sudden grace, unexpected and joyous, filled with light and air and laughter. And you, you will hold a torch to help me see in the dark, a hand to hold when I am sure I am lost, a voice to remind me I am not alone.
I can write, and so I will.
I hope you will read this blog, and write back. Engage and argue, participate, think, laugh, cry, get angry, get quiet. It matters. These connections, however tenuous, however virtual--- they matter. Thank you for visiting. Thanks for reading this far. Thanks for sharing this leg of the journey with me.
As ever, as always---
Stacey Zisook Robinson