Five

Blogger (on left) at five

Dear Blog,

Please forgive me for forgetting your fifth birthday last week. Five is important--all the fingers on one hand; the beginning of school (in the olden days of my childhood); learning how to read and ride a bike; naturally blonde hair achieved without treatment (see picture on the right); and super cool matching outfits with younger brothers.

And so it's nearly unforgivable that I missed your special day. You've seen me through so much--raising teenagers to nearly adults (but not there yet), dating, getting married, a new job, a new home. And you've given me a platform for important issues such as bad hymns, leggings, the difficulty of buying wedding stamps, blizzards, my aversion to Facebook and The Shack, and other vital matters affecting our world today.

Anyway, it has been a good five years, an eventful five years. And if I don't take you out nearly so often as  I once did, it's because I value you too much to waste just any thoughts on you--not that I used to waste thoughts on you.

But you and I both know that's a bunch of nonsense. The truth is, five years ago I spent most evenings alone and decided you were a better use of my time than watching American Idol or Lost. Now that I'm married, though I've found an even better companion than you--and even more entertaining than TV.
And yet I still do love you.

So happy fifth birthday, blog. Here's to many more!

Four

I sat down, pulled up the blog, and had just decided I had nothing to say. Not one thing. There are several things I've been meaning to write about but keep putting off until I have more time to be delving into topics that require more mental alertness and creativity than I have at this point in the day.

I remembered that it was about this time of year that I began my blog and started to wonder what date exactly I first entered the blogosphere. And what do you know? It was January 27, 2007--exactly four years ago today.

In 2007 I was a single mom with a fifteen-year-old daughter who was just learning to play around with her little camera and a thirteen-year-old son with a round baby face who couldn't remember ever having a dad. I was in love with my work as an editor at Discovery House Publishers, and--even though I was sick to death of dating--I was spending my Friday nights getting to know a mysterious, kind, reserved man named Henry who was different from anyone else I had dated. I couldn't really tell you at that point why I was saying yes to his dinner invitations every week. I was tracking the number of dates we had gone on in my planner, just wondering how many it would be before we had our last--an inevitable circumstance based on previous experience.

In 2011 I'm married to the mysterious (not so much now), kind Henry--who isn't so reserved once you get to know him. We still go out on dates on Friday nights, except during Jonathan's basketball season. Marriage has brought with it a different house, church, and a whole new set of great friends. The daughter is in her second year of college now, and the camera play has taken a much more serious turn since she's a photojournalism major. The equipment is a little more expensive too. The boy--now 17--knows what it is to have a dad who makes him shovel the sidewalk and mow the lawn, teaches him how to shave and tie a tie, and talks politics and watches World War II movies with him. The baby face has to be shaved on occasion, and the somewhat longer legs can be found running up and down the basketball court at Tuesday and Friday night basketball games.

I still love being an editor--but I'm doing it at Reformation Heritage Books, and there are different adventures in books, new authors, and a range of responsibilities that makes my head spin some days. And my hair is just a little bit longer now than it has been--a quite daring move for me.

So happy birthday, my blog. You came into my life at a time when I've had lots to write about. And if there isn't quite as much now, that's okay too. Having a somewhat uneventful life that looks a lot like everyone else's may not make for great blogging material, but I don't think I mind having nothing to say.