A Year Ago, I Hit Publish

A birthday letter to Joy in the Story.

A year ago, I hit publish.

I had stories I wanted somewhere to go. I don't know that I realized how much those stories would give back to me. At the time, starting a blog felt like making a little corner of the internet for myself. A place for words that were too long for an Instagram caption. A place to talk about faith and life and motherhood and ministry and whatever else I was carrying around in my head. I certainly wasn't thinking about what it would look like a year later. I was just writing. And then I kept writing.

Somewhere along the way, this little corner became something I didn't quite expect.

It became a record of who I was becoming.

A lot can happen in a year. There are posts on this blog that already feel like they belong to another version of me. I can read something I wrote months ago and remember exactly where I was when I wrote it. What I was wrestling with. What I was praying about. What I was excited about. What I hadn't figured out yet.

There are stories about hope and waiting. Stories about motherhood. Stories about ministry. Stories about friendship. Stories about turning 30 and wondering when exactly I was supposed to start feeling like I had everything figured out. Stories written from places of certainty and stories written from right in the middle of the questions.

There are words I wrote while sitting comfortably at home and words that came after sitting on a camp floor. There are stories that were easy to publish. And there are stories that sat in my drafts while I stared at the publish button wondering whether I really wanted people to read them.

I'm glad I hit it anyway.

Writing has always been part of me. Long before there was a blog, there was a girl with something to write on. Notebooks. Journals. School assignments I probably cared about significantly more than necessary. Half-finished ideas. Notes in my phone. Words scribbled down before I could forget them.

Writing has always been one of the ways I make sense of the world. Sometimes I don't know what I'm feeling until I start writing about it.

Sometimes I don't realize what God has been doing until I see the pieces sitting together on a page. Sometimes I start writing because I have an answer. More often, I start writing because I have a question.

And over this last year, I've learned that both are worth writing down.

I've also learned that I don't need something extraordinary to happen before I have something worth saying. Sometimes the story is a cup of coffee and a quiet morning. Sometimes it's a friendship. Sometimes it's a sermon. Sometimes it's a hard season. Sometimes it's something my child did that I desperately want to remember. Sometimes it's sitting on the floor. Sometimes it's realizing I've changed. Sometimes it's simply noticing something I would have walked right past a year ago.

That's where Joy in the Story has become more than a title for me. It's become a way of paying attention. There is joy in the big stories, sure. But there is so much joy tucked inside the ordinary ones, too.

And I don't want to miss those.

There are still stories I haven't told. Some aren't ready yet. Some may never be. Some are still happening. And there are stories I don't even know are coming.

That's probably what excites me most about starting another year of this. I have no idea what I'll be writing about when this blog turns two. I don't know what will change. I don't know what I'll learn. I don't know which posts will start as tiny thoughts and somehow become the ones that mean the most to me. I don't know which words someone else will stumble across exactly when they need them.

I just know I want to keep writing.

I want to keep writing because this is one of the ways I pay attention to my life. One of the ways I remember. One of the ways I process. One of the ways I create. One of the ways I find the joy hiding in the story I'm already living.

So, happy birthday to this little corner of mine.

One year. So many words. So many stories. So many moments I might have forgotten if I hadn't stopped long enough to write them down.

And somehow, we're already beginning Year Two.

It feels especially fitting that it begins right as my favorite season arrives. The leaves are starting to change. The sweatshirts are coming back out. The coffee is getting warmer. The air is getting cooler.

And I'm still here. Still noticing. Still becoming. Still writing.

So here's to Year Two. To stories I haven't lived yet. To drafts I haven't written yet. To words I might almost talk myself out of sharing. To little moments worth remembering. To finding joy in places I didn't expect it. And to continuing to hit publish.

One year of Joy in the Story. And Year Two begins in my favorite season.

Welcome to Joy in the Fall. 🍂