|My girls, swinging.|
But -I have immense guilt when I go long periods without writing here. I feel a responsibility to stay in communication with those who have read my blog, some for many years. These are the same people who supported me when we took that leap of faith in 2010 and moved to Russia for several months to care for Anya. Many of you wrote me beautiful, heartfelt and helpful letters when my adoption of Daniel failed. Others cheered me on throughout hosting Dasha, adopting Matilda, or a million other things I've tried to get through in one piece. I could never communicate the depth of my gratitude - I really don't think it's possible at all.
So I'm trying to understand my own self these days - a self that used to crave sharing here; a self that was passionate about writing; a self that was very outwardly focused. That's not me anymore. I struggle to find words that define what I'm feeling. I used to sit at my computer and find that I couldn't type fast enough for the words that wanted to come out. Now I can't find words at all, and expressing myself here feels awkward and, even, painful.
I'm not quitting. This isn't a goodbye post. But I felt like I owed people reading here an explanation. I still do the same things: parent Nastia and Matilda, support as many of the girls in Russia as I can, teach Shakespeare, pray and talk to God incessantly, and try to be a better human being each day. But whereas before these things felt like fodder for blog posts, now they don't. Maybe it's writer's block, but I don't think so. I just think my soul has decided to close ranks and be still. My soul is having 'down-time' and wanting nothing more than stillness, simplicity - and authentic communion with God and others through that stillness. Does that make any sense?
I hope so.
I'll keep stopping in a posting little updates, because that's only fair. I know I'm fairly devastated when my favorite bloggers are silent for even a few days. I'll do my best - but it won't be half as passionate or interesting as it used to be. At least not right now.
I hope that's okay with you, reader.