I had the best of intentions of writing forty rockin' days of thank you, thank you, thank you. All heartfelt -some funny, some so sincere I cry, some just necessary for me to strip myself of the burden that being a shy writer is. Then, the internet stepped in and gave me space to assess myself. You see, internet, you stepped out on me. You've stopped signaling, networking, and connecting with my computer. I don't know what's to blame, but I'm thanking you. Why? -Such a great question, World Wide Web.
But, a better answer, I feel. You see, Internet, you left me to sit and steep in my letters written by hand. And you made me realize I'm so grateful for the people in my life that my heart hurts with happiness. I ache to let them know. Worse still, I'm shy. I'm a writer who bares so much of the ugly in our life, but I shy away from the warm fuzzies. Instead of sweet cozy words, my happy thanks turn into sarcasm -which is funny, I know, but it has this wall-like quality to it.
I didn't want to write 40 thank you's just to make people laugh. Or cry. But instead, I wrote them for my heart to stop exploding inside of me and to do so out in the open. And for me, this blog is open. It's the beautiful amber waves of grain. (you see what I did there? amber, Amber) That said, I'm sorry for the absence, but I'm thankful for the weekend to think and to revel in the beautiful family that my dad created. The 40 thanks will continue. And my prayer is they'll honor Him while allowing some of the excitedly grateful, love-filled pressure out of my pent up heart.
To the WWW, thank you for keeping me in check. Thank you for reminding me of my personal firewalls. I promise to let my guard down a bit. But in order to do so, I need you to get reconnected, to communicate with the wide world outside our white walls. Please.