Things that Matter

I used to write here. For a while, I did it frequently.

Then, the kids got older, and life got busier. 

This space, this little piece of the internet that I had? It just didn't draw me like it once did. 

I had Facebook, and Twitter, and Instagram, and those places, and the people there, they drew me. 

I still had my voice, was able to speak my thoughts, just in smaller snippets. 

I could share my images. 

I could connect, often almost instantly, with people who I cared about, and who cared about me. People who agreed with my thoughts and feelings, and sometimes the people who cared about none of those things. 

Someone asked me the other day if I still wrote here. 

"Not really. Not in a long time."

Why did you stop?

"I just got busy, and other social media was enough..."

And that's true. 

But I've been  thinking about it, and I think part of it? Part of it was because I'm exhausted by the hatred that spews forth on so many platforms, and I wasn't sure I could handle it coming here too. To my space. To my little front porch.

There are broken things here, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to repair them. That angers me, but it also feels very metaphorical. 

We are broken, and I'm not sure we'll ever be able to be repaired. 

But we won't ever heal from the broken without addressing it. 

So, maybe, I'll come back. And I'll just start talking again. Because our voices matter, and we should not be silent in these challenging days. We owe that to ourselves, to our children. To our country. 

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.