I don’t have anything to teach you today. It is just me. My mess, my doubts, my confusion. I have a few clever stories about my very clever girls. I have my exhaustion from the end of a very heavy school year. I have questions. I have a lot of questions and maybe a new crock pot recipe.
But I don’t have anything to teach you.
I hope that is okay. I hope it is okay that there are no a-ha moments or big revelations today. I don’t even think I have any gentle reminders, just a huge stack of papers needing entered into the computer and a mostly empty Styrofoam cup of almond flavored coffee.
I have been slow to show up here recently. I have a half dozen blog posts started, but I just wan’t sure what the point was. Somewhere along the way I got the impression that I had to be sure and pointed and point you to something beautiful right there, second line from the end. I don’t want to show up without anything valuable for you. I like my readers. I don’t take it for granted that you show up here sometimes.
But I don’t have any big lessons, or any particular beautiful moments. I just have me, showing up, opening the doors to show you that things have been hard lately.
I have nothing to teach you. And I am choosing to believe that this is enough, even with my hands empty, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
I have nothing to teach you, but I am here, and you are here, and we are broken, and bruised, and beautiful and beloved.
I have nothing to teach you today, I am learning how to be.