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.
Abby Norman 
Thank you for just showing up. I grow so weary sometimes of reading people who always having to weigh in on the big issues, or who have such a strong commitment to a style or stance that you wonder just how much they’re stuffing down to always keep that face forward. The end of the school year is so exhausting. I raise my cup of hazelnut coffee right back to yours. Hang in there!
That is sacred space–the empty, learning-how-to-be space. Thank you for showing up in the midst of it.
French vanilla creamer on this end, along with a virtual hug and the reassurance that it’s perfectly ok. Maybe the end of the school year is like a plane’s descent: Just fasten your seat belt, start putting things away, look out the window, and wait…
I love this best of all, just to virtually sit with you because it’s a tough time of year. You don’t need to teach me anything to make me visit with you.
Summed it up pretty well. Everything seems pretty “meh” here, too.
I loved this post and can relate, too.
Yes. I’m in a similar place.
I like to BE with you, Abby.
The point of relationships is not I believe what you get out of the relationship… those things are nice but the point of relationships is that they are relationships. That is what is most valuable… the state of being together in some fashion is the reward. To be with… to me is what is most valued.
So here you are and here we are… it’s great.