104
In the life of this blog I have published over 850 posts. Sometimes I was consistent with telling stories of my own success and failings along with life lessons I've learned along the way. Other times, I neglected this space for one reason or another. Often I think I'm too busy to take the time to write, but when I'm not busy, I think my life is too boring to write about. Other times, what is on my heart is just too painful or to private to expose to the world.
The posts and the absences of them are all here on the great wide internet for all to read, you know this because you are reading this today and you notice when there is nothing new to read. What you don't know, is that there are 104 other posts out there that never made it to the blog. They are in writing purgatory.
Behind the pretty front of this glimmer into my life are 104 hidden posts that I started writing and then just left it there in the draft folder. They sit there waiting for me to return and finish them or waiting for me to find the courage to publish them.
I didn't realize how many were in blogger's purgatory until a few weeks ago. I was trying to look back at the posts to find one I had written about home. I dug into the bowels of the blog and located the unpublished folder containing all of those abandoned stories. Curiosity got the best of me and I spent about an hour reading through old "starts". Some of the posts only contain one or two lines, a thought that came to me but never developed. Others are longer and complete but something kept me from hitting the "publish" button. And then others are just random, silly stories with not real point and apparently I deemed them unworthy.
I've decided it would be interesting to look back at what never got published...and maybe finish what I started. The italicized portion is recovered from the draft, anything added with be in standard font.
From September 2007
Each day as I drop Eli off for school, his face lights up as he sees his friends, the buses and his teachers. I tell him I love him, and that I hope he has a great day and then without delay he is off. He jumps out of the van says "good morning" to the teacher helping him cross the street and then he makes his way into the kindergarten class like players taking the field for a big game.
This scene unfolds every day, but today I intently watched the whole process.
With a huge smile on his face he greets Mrs. Brooks, gives her a big hug, tells her a quick story and then runs across the street. From there he moves with great speed from teacher to teacher lining the path to his classroom, he gives them all drive-by hugs, occasionally stopping to chat or get the attention of a friend he sees in the crowd and then disappears into the kindergarten hall.
I noticed that as teachers saw him coming they lifted an arm so that Eli could adequately hug their leg. They know what is coming, they expect a hug and a big smile from this little guy. He is joy and love overflowing.
I expected that this would be Eli's story, that he would always be the kid filled with joy, surrounded by friends and giving people high-fives on the way to class. While he was always well-liked by his teachers and friends in throughout elementary school, things definitely changed as he entered middle school. He was still a happy kid, with some good friends but he became more reserved, more concerned about what other people thought and that overflowing joy and energy diminished. His focus was less on being friendly with all the people and more on being a good friend to a small few. Part of me wishes he could still light up a room when he walked in, but I really admire the fact that he values these deep, long lasting relationships far more than the opinions of the crowds. He is confident in who he is and where he wants to go, and isn't bothered by the things he might not be a part of.
As he wraps up his last semester of high school, we are already knee deep in getting things set up for him at the university. My hope and prayer is that when we visit him on campus that scene from kindergarten will play out again. I hope he walks on confidently, nods and waves at friends, acknowledges his professors that play an important role in his education, and that he brings his joy and love overflowing to the people that he allows to become his own.
I've decided it would be interesting to look back at what never got published...and maybe finish what I started. The italicized portion is recovered from the draft, anything added with be in standard font.
From September 2007
Each day as I drop Eli off for school, his face lights up as he sees his friends, the buses and his teachers. I tell him I love him, and that I hope he has a great day and then without delay he is off. He jumps out of the van says "good morning" to the teacher helping him cross the street and then he makes his way into the kindergarten class like players taking the field for a big game.
This scene unfolds every day, but today I intently watched the whole process.
With a huge smile on his face he greets Mrs. Brooks, gives her a big hug, tells her a quick story and then runs across the street. From there he moves with great speed from teacher to teacher lining the path to his classroom, he gives them all drive-by hugs, occasionally stopping to chat or get the attention of a friend he sees in the crowd and then disappears into the kindergarten hall.
I noticed that as teachers saw him coming they lifted an arm so that Eli could adequately hug their leg. They know what is coming, they expect a hug and a big smile from this little guy. He is joy and love overflowing.
I expected that this would be Eli's story, that he would always be the kid filled with joy, surrounded by friends and giving people high-fives on the way to class. While he was always well-liked by his teachers and friends in throughout elementary school, things definitely changed as he entered middle school. He was still a happy kid, with some good friends but he became more reserved, more concerned about what other people thought and that overflowing joy and energy diminished. His focus was less on being friendly with all the people and more on being a good friend to a small few. Part of me wishes he could still light up a room when he walked in, but I really admire the fact that he values these deep, long lasting relationships far more than the opinions of the crowds. He is confident in who he is and where he wants to go, and isn't bothered by the things he might not be a part of.
As he wraps up his last semester of high school, we are already knee deep in getting things set up for him at the university. My hope and prayer is that when we visit him on campus that scene from kindergarten will play out again. I hope he walks on confidently, nods and waves at friends, acknowledges his professors that play an important role in his education, and that he brings his joy and love overflowing to the people that he allows to become his own.
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