Late January I wrapped up the public side of one heckuva fantastic conference, took a deep breath . . . and completely fell off the edge of the world.
Looking back, that freefall was a long time coming — and yet it took me by such surprise I didn’t even realize it was happening, at the time.
Four months in, I haven’t got any good answers, other than my profound thanks for the many people who care about me and have been praying for me.
Some less-good answers:
- No, I’m nowhere close to back-to-normal, physically or mentally.
- Yes, I’m doing the things to continue addressing those problems, and in fact I’m doing the things quite aggressively. Some of that stuff could be bloggable, much of it involves other people’s privacy; for the moment I’m going to refrain from trying to decide what’s up for discussion and what is not.
- No, I’m still not making any predictions.
People who aren’t immediate family remain largely off my radar, and people who are immediate family can attest that being on my radar isn’t much to envy, so non-family aren’t exactly missing that much.
But. But but but. I think I might be resuming a quasi-blogging status here at the blorg. Why? Because I started here back when I was slammed to the pavement, and if there’s one thing we can say about Patheos, it’s that you don’t have to be a shiny-happy Christian who’s got it all together.*
Also, historically speaking, me blogging correlates with my life being better. And me not blogging hasn’t been a winner. So we’ll see. No predictions.
Apology, thank you, and a big fat maybe.
And readers, one final thing I want to reiterate: You have no idea how much I love you and value you. I’ve had the good fortune of getting to know a handful of you over the years, and I love that. I love your sincerity, your kindness, your enthusiasm . . . y’all are people who care about the topics I write about, and I love that.
I love knowing there are other people who think about the things I do, and my appreciation of you is regardless of whether you think I’m fabulously brilliant or astonishingly wrongheaded. (Correct answer: A combination.)
I want to say that because the decision for silence has not, in any way, been a rejection of anyone or even anything. It’s just been where I was, and still mostly am.
But maybe after four months of silence, I might have one or two things on my mind. We’ll see.
Photo: Ancient stone staircase somewhere in France, probably underground. Suitably bleak. Suitably ambivalent: “What happens next?” this shot in the film or scene in the novel always asks. And also, plain reality, readers: It’s a snapshot from one of the best days of my life.
*Reminder: If you can’t get enough of me, there’s a book out that could cure you of that. If you like it, kindly leave a review at the website of your favorite bookseller.
(And no, guys, just because crises of faith make great drama doesn’t mean I’m having one. Jesus is still the everything. –> If there’s nothing else to be learned from these past four months, it’s that I’m firmly in the “needs a Savior” category. In that regard, friends, I’m most certainly not alone.)