The Rest of the Days

So what happened to the rest of the Days of Christmas, in early 2018? If you go back very far in this blog, you’ll find yourself wondering what happened to the 9th day, and the tenth, eleventh and twelfth? There should have been ladies dancing, and lords a-leaping, and more! Or, in keeping with the rest of my posts in that series, products or sites or songs that were warming my heart on those cold winter days.

Like many who embark on a blog, or on a series of posts like those unfinished Twelve Days, I look back at my blog and–well–it’s a wreck, of sorts. What I thought would grow into a whole body of writing looks a little thin. In that interrupted series of Christmas-inspired posts, I got a little off kilter from what I meant to be writing about in the first place!

I could start fresh, with a new site. Perfection, starting now! I could go back to my old posts and delete and sanitize, so only the really good stuff remains. I could become the curator of my past work, pruning off the parts that feel wayward and misguided. (The better brella, really?) I could clean things up so that everything looks presentable and clean.

But I’m too foolish for that. The whole point of what I have to say, in this season, has to do with being who we are, and letting that be seen, and daring to believe that there’s still room for us. I hope you’ll still make room for the things I’ve been storing up to say, even if you wince a bit at some of those off-target posts.

I think you’ll find, though, that if you keep scrolling, there are some real gems. Like The Uneasy Empty Chair. And Show Us the Church Is For Real. There’s a sweet, important memory at Holding On. An angry, political poem (that I can’t format correctly in this medium!) at Mere Women. A long-ago picture and story of me at Becoming Lee. And one of my all-time favorite insights–a little early now for the coming holiday season–at Inviting “the Other” to the Manger.

Looking back over these posts across three and four years makes me reflect: I’m glad I didn’t promise to leave only what’s perfect. None of it is, all the way to perfect. And every post partakes in a small edge of perfection that may speak to someone. (Well, except maybe the brella!)

So, here I am. Ready to begin again. Imperfectly perfect behind and before. And that’s going to have to be enough.