Every day I leave the Triple F Ranch to enter the world of academia. In academia I spend a lot of energy in conversations about language, perception, and communication. I do a lot of critical thinking. In between classes I take forays into my writing life where I think about poverty, and justice, and hope and Jesus (and coffee and kids and fiction and memoir and Guideposts devotions). And sometimes I come home with a headache.
Those dudes were resourceful and hardworking. And they essentially had taken a pile of something nasty and cleaned it up. No huge, sweeping gesture, no dramatic production. They had just done what they could do. Rolling the mess into little balls and taking it away.
There will be people I love who will read this blog and shake their heads and maybe be disappointed in me. That’s okay. I figure most people are doing about the best they can. Including me. I certainly don’t have all of the answers. I’ve written things in the past that make me shake my head now and I’m sure I may change my mind tomorrow about things I think today. I hope that’s growth. At least that’s what I choose to call it.
I simply have to write about this cool thing that happened, because it’s one of those most beautiful kinds of stories that bring hope into the world. And if your committee meetings or Facebook feed or nightly news are anything like mine, you could use one of those stories.
I’m a mother, teacher, writer, seeker. I could tell you I started this blog to make a difference in the world--and it would be great if it does--but that’s not really why I started it.
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