For a long time, my blog was the only space I could spill, especially without my mom or sister close by. I didn't have anyone to come home to, and talking on the phone just wasn't the same, so I wrote.
I've noticed that I've blogged less and less since Paul and I got married. Now I have someone to come home to, to vent to, to blab to, to spill to. And once I do, I'm good. I don't feel the same need to journal anymore because I'm not coming home to an empty apartment. I'm not alone. Paul is my confidant, my listening ear, my patient and compassionate husband, my best friend.
While I am loving my new avenue of processing, I miss opportunities to share about everyday life with people I don't get to see on a daily basis. So, this is an attempt to start writing again.
I have the most to say on Wednesday nights. Sometimes, after all the straggling kids have finally left the church building, after all the rubber communion cup holders have been put back in the pews (apparently they are fun to play with), after the attendance sheets have been returned to the church office, and after my mouth is dry from so much talking, I have more to say and Paul graciously listens. We'll sit together in his office and decompress.
Paul is running the middle school program right now so I'm eager to fill him in on what's happening with the high school group. I give him the low down on the worship experience, what I observed about kids who were in attendance, whose cell phone I had to confiscate, how my small group went, and who wanted to talk to me afterward. And then we drive home together, and we talk the whole way home.
It never ceases to amaze me how much happens in a 2 hour time period and how much I know about the girls in my small group after being with them for only 6 months. I am reminded how 'in your face' brokenness is. These 15-16 year old girls are dealing with eating disorders, health complications, deaths, divorce, sex, manipulative friends, etc..
God is using the painful parts of my past to speak Truth and Wisdom to these girls. I still can't fathom thanking the Lord for some of the hardships I experienced at NCU, and yet I am seeing glimmers of purpose as I relate to teenagers.
I shake my head in disbelief, never thinking any good could possibly come,
here I am.