I live in two worlds. Real life world, and blog life world.
They impact one another, but they rarely intersect.
Blogging takes a huge amount of time and effort, as my fellow writers know. But people in real life know little or nothing about it. Attempts to interject blog news into a real conversation are met with looks of polite incomprehension. At the first mention of a blog post or comment thread, my husband exhibits Blog Glaze Over, a glassy-eyed, slack-jawed expression that stops just short of drooling.
When something happens in blog life world, it stays there.
People in real life could only know when I was Freshly Pressed if I told them. Both times I tried to convey that, yes, it was a bit of a big deal, while showing self-deprecating modesty. I could have saved myself the ego gymnastics – nobody “out there” got it.
Real life comes to blog world much more often. Daily life is the mine from which I dig my raw materials. You get a polished version, however. I don’t bring the gritty, raw stones here. I cut them down to get rid of flaws and reveal the smooth facets. I hone the nuggets, and then mount them in shiny, gold settings. What I bring here are the finished products: the gems of my life, polished and gleaming on black velvet.
Last week, there was a cave-in at the real life mine.
A beloved younger sister, Lib, has been hit with a serious medical crisis. My quick weekend back home turned into a week spent at the hospital, interspersed with nights collapsing at a hotel with my other sisters. There were no computers nearby, and I lacked the time, energy or inclination to seek them out.
I am back to my home now, and my sister is back to hers. She faces an uncertain road with her usual grace, blessed by the support of our large and loving family, humor and faith. If you are the praying kind, please send one up for Lib.
Thanks to all in my blog life world for sticking around through the silence. The relationships I have formed here are very real, and much appreciated.
I’m shoring up the walls and ceilings of my life’s mine and getting back into production, because, quite simply, humor helps. Please “pardon our dust” during this process.