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.

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