I used to write...

A lot, actually. I would list it as a hobby whenever that question would come up. Mostly just letters and journaling. I started writing letters to my summer camp friends when I was 10. As time went on and I met different people (college, summer jobs, old friends who moved) my letter writing circle increased. I would even write the mom of one of my college friends- mostly because I loved hearing back from her. She says the most beautiful things in her letters. My senior year in high school I started journaling...daily. I remember thinking that I wouldn't make it another minute without my head exploding when I was 17. I found a notebook and discovered that if I could empty all those things swirling around in my head onto that paper I could breathe again. Journaling was my escape. I would journal so much that I'd go through a journal or two a year from start to finish. Who actually fills a journal? I have stacks of journals spanning a ten year period of my life. High school, college, marriage, moves, my first child...

But then I stopped. It didn't fade out like some hobbies do- I know the exact day I stopped. I had a miscarriage in December of 2005 and I didn't know what to write after that. I wanted to write. I wanted to send letters to my friends and tell them I was okay and I wanted to write in my journal and tell God I wasn't mad. Holding the pen over the paper and staring at the blank page seemed daunting instead of refreshing. There were no words to write what I was feeling and I felt like if I actually wrote about the miscarriage that would confirm that it was true. If I didn't write it down it would be like it never happened.

The truth is I was okay and I wasn't mad. I was in a lot of pain. I've never felt that broken in my life. But, like any major life changing event, it re-shaped my heart and strengthened my faith. The trouble was I couldn't get back into my writing. It took awhile to work through some of my fears. I've bought two journals since and they are still bare. I sporadically send a note card every now and then but they are brief. I'm not sure why. I think it has something to do with getting out of the habit and developing some new ones. I miss writing. My husband and my mom have been asking when I'll write again and I usually shrug my shoulders and change the subject. I miss it but what if I'm no good at it anymore? What if I've become one of those "how are you? I am fine," letter writers? Sometimes I feel like I don't have words in me anymore.

I've decided to jump in with this blog. There is accountability here. I love to read blogs but I especially like to check in with the blogs that I know are updated frequently. I'm going to write and maybe it will be great reading and maybe it will be pretty terrible. But at least I'm writing. And accountable. And it already feels pretty good.