A Dying Blog?

Today my co-worker J. sent me an article from Christianity Today that re-enforced all of the feelings I've had about this blogging experiment recently. The article, entitled "The Death of Blogs," sums up so well the blog burnout I've been experiencing of late. Apparently blog burnout is a widespread problem, and one tech researcher reports that blogging has probably peaked.

When this little blog experiment began for me back in January, it was just that: a Saturday morning experiment. There is a lot of discussion in my industry about the usefulness of blogs: for promoting the publisher itself (and several major Christian publishers have started staff blogs in the last year), for promoting books, and for promoting authors. Curious about how this "blog thing" worked, I sat down on that quiet winter morning and decided I would find out just how hard it was to have a blog. And it was pretty easy--and fun. All at once, I was the writer, editor, and publisher of my own little media empire. And at first, it seemed like I had so many things to say.

And now, nine months later, there are days I feel like I have given birth to a monster. Sometimes it's easy to write, but more often than not, lately, it's a chore. Life has become busier since that first blog entry: I've accepted a major editing assignment for Reformed Fellowship that may never end, school and fall activities have started after a busy summer of activity, I'm trying to exercise, and I get my writing fix at work. And there are the technical difficulties of an Internet that never seems to work quite how you want it to when you want it to.

But, as the article points out, where it breaks down for us serious bloggers, is that balance between quality and quantity. We want to write well, things of substance, but this takes thought and time. But there are the pressures to post frequently as well. (I'm not sure from whom since this certainly isn't a paying proposition and there really is no blog supervisor to whom we report.) Just this week several people have pointed out that I haven't been posting as frequently. (I think this is some kind of psychological "blog weaning," because the article points out that people have a hard time letting their blogs go.) This is obvious if you check the number of postings for each month since I've begun. I'm no mathematician, but if you were to graph it, there would be a high place on the left in February with a steady, consistent decline with some slight variances to the right for the month of September.

All of this is to say that my blog is not dead yet, but it's definitely terminal. I'm hoping that it can last a year (that's my goal--I don't know why), because as sure as I shut it down, life will start getting interesting again; Katie will finally get that elusive license and start taking herself places, freeing up my time; and I won't get to write at work as much, so I'll need a blog for my writing fix.

All of this does raise some interesting questions about the psychology of blogging, and if there are any psychology PhD candidates looking for a thesis topic, here are some things to consider:

*Why do some bloggers, myself included, feel guilty for not posting more frequently?
*Why do we feel compelled to set deadlines for ourselves (like I'm going to do this for a year)?
*Why can't we just quit?
*Why do we ever start to begin with?
*Why do we care whether our postings are informative, creative, witty, and interesting--especially if we're just writing for ourselves?
*Why are we surprised when someone mentions that they've read our blog? After all, we're putting this information where it can be accessed 24/7 by anyone in the world. (Maybe this one is unique to me.)
*This one is for the audience: Why do we return, time and again, to the same blogs? Are they really that interesting? And why do we feel annoyed when there is no new posting, as if the blogger owes us something.

That should give someone a pretty good start on a doctoral thesis. And maybe, if that person needs more material, he or she could start a support group for burned-out bloggers. Or maybe, we could tie up our time starting a Google discussion group for bloggers, except that it would take away from our blog time, making us feel guilty for not blogging, and frustrating our audiences who have such high expectations...

Things We Couldn't Say

While frequent commenter to this blog, Jewels, may be enjoying the Netherlands in person this week, we "traveled" there this weekend courtesy of Master Arts Theatre and its production of Things We Couldn't Say by Diet Eman.

The play is an adaptation of Ms. Eman's book of the same title, which is on my list of "must reads" in the near future. I'm thankful that director Pris McDonald and the actors and actresses have brought this story of true heroism, sacrificial love, and godly faith to the stage to a culture that has lost sight of what true heroism is.

Diet was 20 years old and engaged to the love of her life when Hitler's troops invaded the Netherlands in 1940. One of Diet's co-workers, a Jew, received notice that he and his family were to report with a small suitcase to a designated place. Diet's awareness of his predicament forced her and her fiance into action. Hein, her fiance, told her, "If we don't do anything, when this is all over, we won't be able to look each other in the eye."

They both became involved in the Dutch Resistance, and eventually both were arrested and sent to prison camps. In the play, an older Diet is recalling her experiences for her biographer. As she recounts her story, the younger Diet of World War II and her fiance, Hein, step on stage to let us "see" the story unfold.

It is a love story--love for God, the love Diet and Hein shared, and love of country. It is also a sad story of pain, suffering, and loss. But it is a timely story for those of us living in the twenty-first century, where the threat is no longer a German madman but those who worship Allah and would have the rest of the world do so as well.

We are reminded, through Diet's story, of the cost of freedom and the selflessness of those who are willing to give themselves to protect and defend it. In the audience with us were many who lived in the Netherlands during that terrible war and many World War II veterans who had experienced the terror firsthand. It made the experience all the more poignant to know that we were observing this story with those who had actually lived it. While Jonathan, at nearly 14, looked to be the youngest person in the audience, it is a story that more children should see, so that they can learn and remember that there is a struggle between good and evil, and it is a war that must be fought.

The play will be performed the next two weekends at Master Arts Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings with Saturday afternoon matinees both weekends. It's a moving and valuable experience, and I highly recommend it.

Light and Darkness

We will shine like stars in the universe,
Holding out Your truth in the darkest place.
We´ll be living for Your glory,
Jesus we´ll be living for Your glory.
We will burn so bright with Your praise O God,
And declare Your light to this broken world.
We´ll be living for Your glory,
Jesus we´ll be living for Your glory.

~Matt Redmond, Shine

In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness; and the darkness did not comprehend it.

~John 1:5

And this is the judgment, that the light is come into the world, and men loved the darkness rather than the light; for their deeds were evil.

~John 3:19

And there shall no longer be any night; and they shall not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God shall illumine them; and they shall reign forever and ever.

~Revelation 22:5

Have I mentioned in any recent posts that I love my job? I was reminded again this week what an opportunity God has blessed me with when one of our DHP authors, Susan Lenzkes, visited us. For someone like me who loves interacting with words and ideas (and even gets paid to do it!), there are fewer delights than getting to spend time with another person who loves interacting with words and ideas.

Susan has written several books for DHP, including Life Is Like Licking Honey Off a Thorn, When Life Takes What Matters, and Everybody's Breaking Pieces Off of Me. She led our Monday morning devotion time and then met with the RBC Our Daily Bread writers and the DHP editors. Susan is a warm person, and God's love radiates from her as she speaks. She led us in a discussion of the analogies God uses to help us understand His truths, and, of course, I shared one of my favorites: darkness and light. In fact I shared with her my recent realization (based on one of my pastor's sermons) that the reason those of us who are in Christ need not fear coming into the light is because we have nothing to hide; we are clothed in Christ's righteousness, so when God looks on us, that is what He sees.

Interestingly, Susan had been considering a couple of subjects to speak about at the RBC chapel on Tuesday. One of them was (by coincidence?) darkness and light. My bringing up the subject made her decide that darkness and light was the way to go. She shared a great insight: She explained that when we go through troubles, we are broken and cracked, and then God can use these "cracks" to allow the light to shine through us. A lovely image.

She read a brief devotional from one of her books entitled "When Christmas Isn't Welcome," about how difficult it can be to celebrate the holiday when we've had a year of losses. Susan writes: "And yet God sent the Light of the World into such darkness. All around there was oppression, sickness, and suffering. Christmas wasn't welcomed then either. It was shunted into the dark corner of a dank stable. Yet the animals, along with the weary and wondering new mother and her husband, found they were not blinded by the light of His glory. He left the brilliance of heaven behind and came with a soft cry into the night. Only a lantern lit the face of God . . . When we can't say, 'Merry Christmas,' perhaps we can whisper, 'Welcome, Light of the World.'

Jesus is the light, His Word lights our way, and we are to be light in the darkness. What beautiful ways God gives us to understand His truth.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

It's unbelievable that something that began as an experiment on a quiet Saturday morning (this blog) could now have reached 100 status. And yet this is post 100, and I can think of no better topic for this post than one-half of the team making the writer of this blog possible--my mom.

This Sunday we celebrated mom's birthday (I won't say how many, but more than she looks), and, as has become tradition now on this blog, here are ten reasons I love my mom and am so thankful that God gave me such an amazing parent.

1. My mom loves God and has set a great example of faithfulness and obedience to Him for her children and grandchildren. This is the goal of any parent who loves God and understands her obligation before Him. My mom has achieved this goal.

2. I don't think I have ever known another person with more of a servant's heart than my mom. Whether it's her family, friends, neighbors, or even sometimes people she barely even knows, my mom is always there to give whatever is needed. A few examples: She (and my dad, of course--but more on his birthday) gave up her job and home in Ohio to move here to help me raise Katie and Jonathan. This took her even three hours farther away from her family in West Virginia. She often provides a listening ear to people who are going through difficult times in their lives. (In fact, she spent several hours this past Saturday listening to someone who was hurting badly.) She welcomes the neighbor kids into her home, bandages their scrapes at times, and gives them snacks. I could write a chapter book on this quality of my mom's.

3. She has a great sense of humor which has shaped her very down-to-earth mothering style. This is a mom who often bit her lip while she was spanking my brother, in particular, because while what he did required punishment, it was definitely funny and pretty hard not to laugh. She would threaten us with phrases like, "I'm going to beat the snot out of you," but we knew she wouldn't really. And I'd like to think my penchant for sarcasm has been inherited from her.

4. She has overcome great obstacles and challenges with absolutely no sign of bitterness. She grew up in poverty in West Virginia and was made fun of because of her raggedy clothes. Her dad died when she was only in her early twenties. Her daughter Kristi died at the age of twenty in 1990, and then her son-in-law (my husband) died in 1996. She lives with these thorns with a grace and dignity and has made it a point to comfort others with the comfort she has received.

5. She taught me everything I know about being a girly girl, especially in the areas of hair, clothes, and make-up. Our little family joke: How do you know when Helen/Annette is really sick? She has no make-up on. Thanks to Mom, it's a rare situation when you find me outside of my house with my hair not in place and no make-up.

6. Her vegetable soup, chop suey, and chipped beef gravy on toast.

7. Her mastery of the fine balance between being a doting grandparent and a strict taskmaster, when necessary. Probably each of her four grandchildren would tell you that he or she is the favorite because she makes them feel so special. But look out if you need a "talking to"--because she'll give you one that will give much food for thought.

8. Her story-telling skills, which she inherited from her own mother. You may have heard the same story a thousand times, but each time there's a bit of a different twist. And somehow, in her stories, her children and grandchildren are always the funniest, smartest, bravest, and best.

9. The role model she set for me as a working mom. Her job was important to her, and she enjoyed it (she was a purchasing agent for many of my growing-up years, when women purchasing agents were few and far between), but her family's needs always came first, and we knew it.

10. Mom is a walking medical dictionary. When the doctors don't know, or you'd just rather have an opinion that you know is probably right, just check with my mom.

My mom "opens her mouth with wisdom, and on her tongue is the law of kindness. She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness" (Proverbs 31:26-27). Happy birthday, dear Mom!

Labor Day 2007

Internet issues, children now using the computer to complete homework assignments, and just plain busyness are detracting from blog time. But there are no shortages of adventures to share on Head and Heart.

Labor Day 2007 found the Seldens and Henry seeking for a meaningful and entertaining way to close out this "last day" of the summer. And it was a beautiful day, so our requirements were twofold: something outside, and something involving water. I proposed canoeing, one of those things I had never done but always thought would be fun to try, and Henry quickly agreed that this would be a fun activity.

Henry reserved two canoes for us at the Indian Valley Campground on the Thornapple River in Middleville. Immediately Jonathan suggested that "the boys should go together and the girls should go together." Little did he know, however, that that was not the plan. Henry--the only one of us with canoe experience--asserted another strategy: he and I in one, and Katie and Jonathan in the other.

While I really liked this scheme (it's so nice having another grown-up and not being outnumbered by the children), I was a little nervous about it. Katie and Jonathan are not known for their outdoor skills or their ability to work together, so I packed a couple of beach towels thinking that the best case scenario would be that only the two of them might need them.

We arrived at the campground and were transported by van to the launch on the Thornapple River in Middleville. Among our company was a man who seemed to know everything there is to know about canoeing, fishing, and just life in general. And he happily shared his wisdom during the entire van ride. We learned that he was looking forward to fishing for salmon later this fall when water levels hopefully would rise (more on him later).

We took our place at the end of the line and waited our turn for our canoes to be launched. I think that Jonathan must have said at least thirty-seven times, "I think an adult should be in each canoe," even though this adult would not have been much help. Eventually I threatened him with punishment if he said it one more time . . .

What a lovely time! With my experienced, gentleman canoe chaffeur, Henry, taking over the steering at the back of the canoe, I have nothing but enthusiasm for my first canoe experience. The whole trip back to the campground took about two and a half hours, and I can't think of a more pleasant way to spend a beautiful Labor Day afternoon,floating down the river and enjoying wildlife and scenery.

While Katie and Jonathan got off to a bit of a rough start, spending a great deal of time on either one bank or the other, they quickly learned how to maneuver the canoe off of sandbars, tree branches, and whatever other stuff was in the river to catch them up. Even though Henry and I quickly floated ahead of them, we knew they were okay because we could hear them screaming at each other for most of the first part of the trip. At one point we came upon Mr. Outdoors Salmon Expert wading with his companion in the shallows. Henry (jokingly) asked, "Find any salmon?" Not only does Mr. Outdoors Salmon know everything, he has absolutely no sense of humor, responding, in all seriousness, "There aren't any salmon in this river!" We were thankful to be enlightened.

Toward the end of our journey, we came upon some beautiful homes along the river. We noted the decks, the screened-in porches, and the outdoor swings and commented that it would be so lovely to be able to live along the peaceful river and enjoy the quietness and serenity of it all. This was followed by further screaming from Katie and Jonathan, Katie because there was a "gigantic" spider in the canoe, Jonathan insisting that it was not at all harmful and refusing to kill one of God's creatures and telling Katie that she needed to paddle and steer the canoe, and Katie insisting she would not paddle unless Jonathan killed the spider. It was a good time.

And it was a good time, creating some fun memories. Katie feels that she channeled her inner Pocahontas, and Jonathan had something interesting to share at school on Tuesday about what he did on Labor Day. And I got to enjoy the ride in the company of one of my favorite people, who also had a good time. We may have found a new Labor Day tradition.