When I began this blog, I described myself with the following:
I love words. And light. Words that bring light; and the Word that is the Light.
I am young. I know little. But perhaps writing what I see will help me to see more clearly. Perhaps, in a small way, my words can bring light, too.
All of it still applies, here on my “about” page. I still love light and light-bringing and light-being words. I am still young, though older than I used to be. And I know that writing what I see has made my vision clearer.
I live as a new wife in an old brick apartment on a charming brick street in a downtown that might have been the model for one of those quaint downtowns you see on Christmas cards. I’m learning about wifehood and hospitality, and a new style of church music in my new church, and continuing to teach and look and listen and think and read.
And write. Of course I write. But having people — you — actually read what I write? It was only a potential when I began, and now you are reading, and I am astonished and often afraid. But I am learning that there is grace, even for the words which I boldly fling to you in cyberspace. Grace enough that sometimes some of the light I so love gets through the words to you. Grace enough that I may write, even when it doesn’t.
You read. That also is grace.
I thank you.