My Blog's One Year Anniversary!

One year ago today, I hesitantly clicked the publish button on my computer screen and thus published my very first post on this blog. And 37 posts later, I’m still going strong.

I had people tell me for years that I should start a blog, but I always told them I didn’t know what I would write about. And honestly, I didn’t feel like adding any more jobs to my plate, especially when I wouldn’t be getting paid for it. But then something terrible and wonderful happened that made me realize that my job as a writer isn’t really a job at all. 

On February 21, 2012 I received the most heart-wrenching text message of my life. It was from my friend, Joey. He was writing to say that his sister, Theresa, who was in her second battle with leukemia, was probably not going to make it through the day. She was 31 years old. He wanted to write something up about her to commemorate her life. And he wanted me to help him write it. I have never felt more terrified or honored in my life.

Shortly after receiving his text, I left work to drive home. On the way, he texted me again to say that she had passed. As soon as I walked into my house I collapsed on the floor crying harder than I ever have. I cried because I didn’t want him to lose his sister. I didn’t want him shouldered with that kind of pain. And I cried because I didn’t know how to write what he wanted me to write.  In no way did I feel talented enough to do justice to this woman’s life that was clipped too short. The task seemed impossible.

Three days later, I drove to Bozeman and boarded a plane bound for Las Vegas for a birthday getaway I’d planned months prior. I sobbed hysterically the whole drive to Bozeman. I felt torn about wanting to cancel my trip and not knowing how or if I’d be able to write the eulogy. Throughout the trip I kept calling my mom and two best friends saying over and over again that I didn’t think I could do it. And they kept telling me they knew I could. Busy with the funeral planning, I hadn’t heard back from Joey either on when we were going to work on his piece so I just waited and prayed. 

On my second day of being gone, I finally heard from him. He said he would try to write up as much as he could and then email it to me to expand on. In his very emotional state, he was barely able to write anything. And having never met his sister, I didn’t know how I was going to manage. On my Saturday night in Vegas I locked myself in my hotel room, tuned into the music on my iPod, and sat down on the bed in front of a laptop I’d rented from the hotel. The blank page never looked so daunting. For over three hours I sat there crying and writing until it was finished. To this day I don’t know where I found the strength to write that. But I think most of it came from God and from knowing that Joey had trusted in me alone to do this important task.  

I didn’t make it home in time to attend Theresa’s funeral. And I didn’t get to hear Joey read what I wrote. Of all the things I regret in life, those are the two that hurt the most. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there. But as I looked out the small airplane window on the flight home the same day as her funeral, I found some relief in knowing that a part of me was there. I was present in the words that Joey stood up and read. And I think perhaps, those words were even more important than my physical presence. 

Almost one year after Theresa’s passing, my mom told me about a writing contest in a magazine asking readers to write about the day that changed their life. I didn’t have to ponder for even one second what day that was for me. It was, and always will be, February 21, 2012. I only sat down to work on the essay contest once. After about 10 minutes I was crying uncontrollably and I knew I just wasn’t ready to write about it. I felt like a failure because of that. But then a few months later, my old dance teacher said something to me that I’ll never forget. She told me that I needed to do something “Good” with my writing. And the moment she said that, I realized that I had already learned one way of fulfilling that by helping Joey. It wasn’t long after that when I got the idea in my head that I should start a blog. I had no idea what I would write about. My goal was though was to write about things that would honor the gift Theresa’s passing gave to me: the epiphany that I am called to do something good with my writing.    

Now, whenever I sit down to write, I always stop and ask myself the question: does this piece strive towards doing something good….be it for a cause, a person, or something else? And I never, ever start writing without pausing in reflective prayer for a few brief seconds for Joey and Theresa.

I don’t know how many people read this blog, or whether any of my posts have actually meant anything to anyone. But I like to think that some good has come out of it. If nothing else, it has pushed me out of my comfort zone with my writing and forced me to write about some hard things….things that up until now I wasn’t able to write about. And it has given me purpose and a better sense of direction with my writing. This blog is humble and likely not read by that many people, but it has been a step towards something bigger. And the first step in a long journey is often the most important step of all.