Frustrations and resentment followed us there.
After more than 11 years of marriage, words aren't always necessary.
Our spirits speak.
He admits fear and perhaps even jealousy at the community I've enveloped through writing.
Who he is to me--his identity--is a question that begins to dance across my heart. I feel insulted at what he implies.
The social media outlets and connections keep him edgy.
He feels disconnected.
I realize how purpose-filled I feel in this community and how I often wish he knew more.
I admit that I haven't included him as much as I could.
I long for him to be engaged in my excitement.
I begin to share. At first with timidity. And then, sudden excitement bursts forth with great confidence and peace.
I've been led to this community for purpose. I must share this joy.
Names of blogging friends escape my mouth with enthusiasm.
I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the gifts to know these women.
Claire. Emily. Lisa-Jo. Kris. Deidra. Ann. Salsa chic. And so many more.
I tell him about dreams we make together and how He knits us together through them.
Places like (in)courage and The High Calling where I've connected with souls. For purpose.
I tell him that I am noticed there. That it doesn't replace Home and family noticing me. But that engaging in these places is a prompting I cannot help. Connections are made that keeps my identity real and alive.
Awakening in the morning I feel a bit of a hangover hovering between us. Trepidation to trust.
I lift his identity up. And mine. And all those around us. I give thanks, because gratitude truly does change every. thing.
Remembering our identities are sealed in His plans, allows Peace to quiet the fear that tells us otherwise. And courage to trust.
"Write for five, short, bold beautiful minutes...
Unscripted and unedited...
Without worrying if it's just right or not."