A new inspiration

I still remember the day someone suggested that I write a blog. Having just started an adoption process, people wanted to follow our story, to stay in the loop and be up-to-date on whatever step we were on. So I stepped out of my comfort zone and gave it a try, putting my normally private world and thoughts on a not-so-private forum. And I found a form of communication that suited me, a place where I finally felt safe to be myself and share my heart. People around me, including family, finally had a window into my heart. I didn't know then what I know now about my introverted nature and how freeing a blog could feel. Now people could know me, the real, deep, authentic me without waiting for me to speak up--because I probably never would. I'm a deep thinker and have so much to say, but very little ever comes to the surface in a timely manner. Unless we sat one-on-one over coffee or chai on a rainy day, I tended to keep my thoughts to myself. Everything changed when I started a blog.

Little did I know that first blog would end up being my safe place to bleed out my heart when that adoption failed. And that documenting all that grief would preserve the details and the raw emotion to turn it into a book two years later. 

So the book came out and I closed the blog, re-inspired to start a new one with a new purpose. A place to simply share my heart. Which then led into another adoption process, a new son, and another book. I kept that blog going so I could document and share our lives and our adventures as a new family of four. 

I love being able to look back at my blog for details of my life and of all the memories we made. But when God moved me and Mike back to Indiana, leaving our sons in Texas, I found it harder and harder to write on that blog. Grief messed with my ability to focus and concentrate, and writing felt like a duty rather than a release. And the more I added to it made it feel cluttered and forced. 

Now that I'm finally settling in to my new home and feel like I'm truly connecting with new friends and family here, I'm realizing that I am free to reinvent myself, my space, and my purpose. Writing has to follow inspiration, and my greatest inspiration right now comes from my daily walks with God on this beautiful country road surrounded by nature's ever-changing landscape through each season. I think I had to walk this road through the entire cycle of seasons to fully appreciate it. So now I invite you to join me on my walks up and down this country road so I can share what God is teaching me through the current season we're in. 

Don't blink!

Every day I walk down my road, the vibrant variety of colors nearly takes my breath away and whispers not to blink or it all may just fade away more quickly than it appeared. Each evening I notice more leaves have changed color while just as many or more have fallen, leaving holes in the autumn landscape all across the forest and behind the few houses spread out along the long, country road. I've been taking a lot of pictures because the landscape changes constantly.

I'm reminded of times in my life that I wanted to savor as long as I could, knowing they were inevitably slipping away. Like cradling my newborn son in my arms or holding on to him a little more tightly through his senior year of high school. Like watching my adopted son spend precious time with his sister for those short ten days we spent in Spain to see her. Like the last few days of a school year with a class that stole my heart. Like that last hug with a family member or close friend that I know I won't be seeing again for awhile. Or even as trivial as that last sip of a good cup of coffee or that last bite of fresh blueberry pie. 

This current stage of the season reminds me to open my eyes and embrace what's in front of me, savor the beauty of it, and cherish yesterday's gifts while anticipating and looking for new gifts tomorrow. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.--Lamentations 3:22-23. The canvas changes daily, and I'm thankful for the front row seat to watch the Master Artist in action. 

It's incredible to watch this season burst forth in greatness, knowing all those vibrant colors patiently waited their turn to come out in their due season, one at a time, so we could capture the individual beauty of each one before every last leaf falls to the ground and gives way to the never-ending cycle of life.