Blog silence. Pretty buy cialis 5mg typical on this little WordPress blogaroo. Other blogs seem so prolific: so much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say (okay, so I’m listening to DMB right now: make my hubby proud). When I started blogging, I found myself attracted to two types of posts: informational and formational. Informational: giving terms and naming concepts to my experience of wandering post-college. Formational: sharing stories of their own orientation, disorientation, and surprising reorientation in which I could relate or find myself in their journey.
But lately? So.Much.Information. Answers: so many answers. Or critiques. Or slams. Or “I’m in the Emergent/Missional/Converging/Reformata/Baby-Wearing/Attachment Parenting/Babywise/Dave Ramsey/Fox News/CNBC/Obama Hopeful/Obama Critical” bandcamp. As more and more people connect or input on the internet, the more polarized I see it becoming. And I get sad.
I don’t feel I have answers: just my journey. And lately I’ve been hesitent of sharing that story because of the way people treat me: “Keep your head up!”, “Boy, it must be tough!”, “You’ll get through this!” Perhaps that’s the eternal plight of a melancholy who allows folks into the inner sanctum: I didn’t think I made it sound “that bad” – it’s just the way I see things. Folks from a different generation would probably say that censoring my thoughts or being more selective in the means of how I share would be prudent. And it probably would: but goodness, I don’t think my wiring has anything labeled “prudent” in there – believe me, I’ve looked.
This past weekend I got to participate in a gathering called Kaleo: both energizing and discouraging. Energizing in that I realized how much I adore being in situations like that: with people eager to listen and contribute and discern the presence of God for the betterment of the world and the adoration of Christ. Discouraging in that the next day while I was having a really rough time of parenting (Jason went snowboarding at the last minute with a friend), I wondered what could possibly be the purpose of going out to a conference, getting excited, and then coming home to fold laundry and put away dishes and deal with fairly crabby children with little to no thanks.
This is where I should input some sort of take away: “But I realized that Christ was really inconvenienced when he came to earth. Whatever I do to the least of these, I do unto him. I realized I should find joy in all circumstances. I found peace in realizing that these days will pass, and I need to keep my eyes on the future.”
Excuse me while I try to stop rolling my eyes and making my “thooey” face. I didn’t realize those things. I realized I needed to dance. To Really Bad Pop Music. So I did: Ipod blasting while the boys were confined to their rooms, I rocked out to boy bands and Brit pop and a little Ms. Spears. It didn’t provide answers, but it tired out The Furies, and now my butt hurts (getting so old).
Something that stood out to me at Kaleo, or perhaps it was the Recalibrating Church conference, was the idea of takeaways. Somebody somewhere said that in Olden Church the priests did not exposit on the Scriptures: no takeaways. They allowed their congregants to enter into the story, to participate, to be formed and transformed by the Spirit through the Word.
Sometimes I wish I had answers or take-aways. Maybe that would make my blogging more directed, prolific, marketable. But then I’d probably skim it just like I do so many other sites. Our society seems to be moving beyond “just the facts, ma’am” — but to what? And how do we meet them there?