- Sep 5, 2021
To be honest, I didn’t really want to create this blog. It’s something I’ve thought about for a while but never seriously considered. Until I made the mistake (unintentional right choice?) of telling my friend Natalie. Who also told my friend Jessie. And Anna. Each of them being all for it. So then I told my mentor Erin. Which brings me here. Clearly I’ve decided to go for it.
Continuing in honesty, I just wasn’t convinced my voice mattered in the midst of all that already exists. Does the world really need another white, Christian, female blogger? I’m not sure. What I do know, however, is that I’ve got plenty I want to say. Not because I think I have all the answers and certainly not because I have it all together. I have felt a deep stirring within me to write, to speak, to share what is happening in my head and heart. Maybe someone has said it all before. But I have realized that doesn’t make what I am saying any less valuable for this moment and this audience.
I am writing because I want to be faithful to what God has been and is calling me to. For me, right now, that’s kind of scary. But I’m stepping out anyways. So welcome. This will be a journey and I can’t make any promise as to what kind of journey it will be.
But here is what I can promise. That you are seen. You are not alone. You are deeply loved. You are welcome here.
Ellie Holcomb recently released a new album, Canyon. And the last song is by far my favorite. It gets me every dang time (translation: I get a little, or a lot, weepy every time I listen to it). A couple of lines stand out to me, “You’ve already been in this desolate place/ You’ve already been here, and You’ve made a way.” I know Ellie is singing about how God has been in the dark and hard places, making a way for each of us to find our way out. But this is also one of my deepest desires for this digital place. That you, dear hearts, would know that God and maybe even another human has been there. And that there is a way out. Maybe some of the words here will turn into a road map for you. My heart could burst at the thought.
And this is why I’ll write. To bring a bit of light, perhaps like the stars, to guide each of us out of darkness and into light. To provide hope in the midst of the long nights and in the depth of your pain.
I’m writing to remember that I’m not alone. I’m writing to show you that you aren’t alone. And I’m writing from the floor because that’s where I end up when I feel the full weight of emotions. You’re welcome to join me friend, I’ll probably make some coffee for us soon.
Mallory