When Andy and I walked anywhere, and I happened to trip and fall, which was often, one thing he used to say all the time to no one in particular: “Don’t worry folks, it’s her first day walking.” This was the title of the blog for many years, and it seems like a narrative that continues to ring true for me. My story. My life. Happy and head-in-the-clouds bumbler, feet-shuffler and consumed-by-thoughts, I’m still learning how to watch my feet.
Writing is a way to watch my feet. To keep placing one foot in front of the other. To keep embracing what is new and starting-over or learning-something again and again. To keep seeing the grace in falling and being picked up. I write for the sake of day-to-day survival. To remind myself to keep my head down and press forward. To remind myself to look up periodically and take in the sights. To remind myself to take it one stumble at a time. I write to make meaning. To make sense of my life and the world around me.I write to live out the reality in my life that the revelations and miracles happen through the others journeying right next to me.Click To Tweet
For almost a decade this has become a space for me to shape that journey and pilgrimage through conversations with a wide group of fellow practitioners, sojourners, teachers, pastors, and writers.
We talk about everything. We talk about Church. We talk about our dreams. We talk about theology. We talk about justice. We talk about the streets of our neighborhoods and childhoods. We talk about the process. We talk about current issues and share histories and her-stories. We talk about the tired-to-the-bones exhaustion of chasing kids, pursuing identity and vocation, and struggling with the weird reality that life is so hard but also somehow amazing and beautiful.
My hope is that these writings will provide a little food and water for the journey. Except it doesn’t come from just me. Everyone here brings something that is needed right now.
So, thanks for being here. Your presence means so much to me.