Dramatic, eh? What’s the point of a title that doesn’t threaten the end of life as we know it?
Two years ago, I began blogging by necessity. Several of you were nice enough to follow along and whisper confident encouragement in my ear when I wanted to quit. Because I am a writer and editor by profession, the first question in every interview or conference I attended seemed to be, “What’s your blog about?”
[Insert deer-in-the-headlights look.]
All I really wanted was a red pen and something to fix. A blog? Say what?
So since blogging was apparently the rite of passage on the road to publication, I decided to write about what mattered to me: my home. At the time, I was working a corporate job where the endless office chatter involved climbing to the top. One of my co-workers innocently asked if I had aspirations of–you know, being a head honcho–and I responded that the only honcho I wished to be was a house honcho, you know, COO of my own home (not to be confused with the CEO).
The person looked at me much the way you might be looking at this screen.
Sometimes Often, things sound better in my head.
But a blog was born.
I have lots I’d like to say on what I learned while blogging about home management, but the essence is this: My life looked different back then. Learning to be a better home manager was my passion. (It should also be noted that I didn’t have children, so cleaning my house was a wholly enjoyable experience.)
Recently, I was thinking about my life and the legacy I hope to leave my kids someday. Yes, I want them to remember a clean(ish) house. I want them to know I loved them enough to fix good(ish) food. Of course I do. But more than that, I want them to remember the things we celebrated.
I want to celebrate the large and small evidences of grace in our family so that my kids look back and can’t not remember the landmarks of God’s goodness. (Double negative? Ah well. Where’s that red pen?)
Celebration. In my life, it is the ingredient that is missing too often.
If I get so caught up in folding laundry or wiping tables or washing dishes that I forget to celebrate life, I will go to my grave with regret. I am not insinuating that a clean house matters less to me today than it has in the past. I think a clean house is a gift. But I want to celebrate home and family more often than just the 11 days the banks are closed. You know all those little holidays on the calendar?–Yes, even the silly, made-up ones? I intend to use ’em.
As of November 1, this blog is going a new direction. From the header on down it’s all changing. Please join me in this new season.
Maybe when we’re done celebrating, we’ll need to go back to cleaning in order to put it all away.