August marks the beginning of the end of summer for me. It brings a mental shift from unstructured days and planning for travel to easing into structure and planning for a new school year. It is in this tension that I sit on Saturday, the first of August.
Reflecting on the summer, things have not been as I thought they would be. Are they ever?
I anticipated extra time on my hands to clean, organize, do house projects, and write. I envisioned the blog full of words and engagement and processing. When this didn’t happen, I envisioned closing up shop. Circling up those wagons, deleting the blog, and folding in on myself.
That wasn’t the answer, either.
I spend much time wanting answers. I want to know the end and that I am making the best choices in the middle. I want to understand the whys when sometimes they are just the secret things. I want to make sense of the senseless.
So August dawns new and fresh with possibilities even as my hopes for June and July seemed to wither on the vine this year. August brings with it more change. So much change.
I am still writing. In those moments of doubt and disconnect when the temptation to delete was strongest, encouragement came in the form of comments on posts or texts to my phone or a handwritten card. The reminder that I write to remind us that we are not alone in whatever we face kept me going during the dry discouragement of does it even matter?
There remain places to process in quiet and things to learn about healthy boundaries for my heart. There is still much to focus on in real life and social media tends to distract me from that.
I don’t know what the end of August will hold, but its beginning is hopeful, and I will hold to that.