I'm here.

I'm not sure what to say.

I had dreams about this blog. I kept saying I was writing it just for me. But I'm realizing I was hoping - desperately hoping - someone would read it. I wanted to be clever, deep in a way people could hold and quote, viral in my wisdom.

I was hoping for what we maybe all hope for - acceptance, popularity, security in who I am.

That's a lot of pressure to put on someone who quite possibly doesn't know you, or isn't prepared to commit to your well being, much less sacrificially love you.

Here's where I am at "0:dark thirty" in the morning.

I need Jesus.

I haven't written a thing for what, 2 months? I don't know. We've been in shell shock. Dad died in October, the kids came home and we had a simple time of worship with just the 5 of us. We couldn't have a service due to Covid and my mom being 95.

But then we all got Covid anyway in December.

We wash our hands. Sanitize and mask up. But we got it anyway. All of us.

Rich ended up in the hospital on Christmas Eve and we had Christmas Day by phone with him. We were all too numb to care what we got. We were just so grateful he was getting the care he needed and that the rest of us were recovering.

Covid is an ugly disease, but loneliness is uglier. Covid is exhausting, but depression is more exhausting. Covid is a life robber, but unforgiven sin is more life robbing - it kills you while you are still living.

But in the grieving, in the numbness, in the aftermath of an election that split my country into the most bizarre behavior - I have hope.

I have Jesus.