This little corner of the internet here, I love it.
I mean, sometimes, I hate it, sometimes I don’t express what I mean and sometimes I have nothing to say but feel pressure to say something, but overall… I love it.
I love the community here, the people I’ve “met”, the opportunity to express what I think and process my feelings and faith and doubt here… it has been invaluable to me. For those of you who check in regularly, who comment and share and email me and even just those of you who silently read- thank you. You make this big wide internet and even bigger world feel less lonely and make me feel less alone in it.
But today, this isn’t really for you. You’re welcome to listen in, but it may not make sense to you. That’s okay. It’s not for you.
Today I’m writing for those of you who know me in my real, non-internet life. Because you guys are the best too, and I rarely write for you.
To be totally honest, I generally forget you read this. It’s easier to write for people who I will never meet, who there are no repercussions for offending and no chance of embarrassing myself in front of, and so I tend to ignore the fact that you guys read this too.
I’m sorry, because when I’m writing into the void sometimes I say things that aren’t fair to those people who love me in real life.
Sometimes I say things like, “If God is a God of joy and peace and love (and I believe that he is), then I felt him more present in that hour long yoga class than I have anywhere else in a long time,” without even thinking that some of those people who love me in real life are going to read this and be so hurt.
It’s not true.
You guys love me better than a very friendly and welcoming yoga instructor ever could. You love me enough to tell me you were offended by reading those words, and you’re so right.
Was God present at yoga? Yes.
Is God present when you invite me to your house over and over again, when you listen and laugh and cry and fight for me? Yes, yes, yes and amen.
Thank you for being the image of God to me and for me and in relationship with me. I don’t deserve as wonderful of friends and family as I have been blessed with, and I would not trade you all for a lifetime of weird yoga or for a million blog readers. Not even close.
I’m sorry that the words I say are arrogant and one-sided. In some sense, that’s the nature of a blog. In another sense, that’s the nature of my heart and it is sinful. I am no authority on pretty much anything except me, and in this place, that’s all I try to be an authority on.
Actually, that’s not always true, but it is what it should be. In the future, I will try to make it more so. Hold me to that.
This isn’t the right place for these words. I want to get coffee with you, or invite you over for dinner, or get some wine and tell you all the reasons I love having you in my life. Please take me up on that.
In the meantime- don’t stop telling me you disagree. I love that you love me enough to read even when you disagree, that you love me enough to tell me you think I’m wrong and still be my friend. That somehow disagreeing doesn’t seem to change our relationship with one another.
Sometimes you’re right and I’m wrong. Today, I want to say I’m sorry for those times, specifically any time anything you have read here has made you feel like I don’t value you.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
There’s hope for me yet, friends. Thanks for believing that, and thanks for working to make it true.
And I’m serious about the wine and telling you why I love you. Come on over, anytime.
Photo by Gene Han, via flickr.