Today is the midpoint in my self-imposed March blogging challenge: 15 posts written before today, 15 more to go after this one. I was doing a bit of digging in the drafts folder to see if I could unearth any inspiration. It's like an archeological dig in there, man.
Top layer: things that need more research or that strike me as potentially pretentious
Middle layer: maybe I should take this down in case the extended family member described herein remembers that I have a blog
Further still: rubbly pile of question marks and mystery
One post is called "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. Or, you know, not." I saw that one and thought, "Oh, Tennyson! I love that poem! Wonder what I was writing about that day?" Nothing, apparently-- I didn't save any text at all, just the title. What would I have been thinking about drinking life to the lees? I suppose I'll never know. There's one called "grapes" in which I was trying to preserve the anonymity of someone from my church while also describing an extremely annoying habit of hers. Probably a good call to keep that one in drafts, past self. There's also "Chicken Little, Evangelist" and "Time Does Fly," the accuracy of which observation is confirmed by the fact that the draft is now four years old.
The posts I am most likely to abandon or take down are the ones in which I worry about exposing somebody else's underbelly. There's a post about a 2013 rough patch in our marriage, for instance. It will never appear on the blog, but here is a bit of painfully acquired wisdom from the end of it:
I've been thinking that maybe marriage helps you prepare for heaven in two ways. The first is that you see your own flaws more clearly through the eyes of your spouse. You see the damage those flaws can do, etched on the face of the person you love most. And this is the second: you see up close the crazy miraculous heartbreaking impossible truth, that you are loved anyway.
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