No words now — I’ve got an hour and a half before I am sharing our story of adoption with a group of women alongside my sister who also adopted (domestic, through foster care). Looking forward to that. But, until then, it’s just me and my bedroom for my R&R.

Here’s some shots I just took on my phone – didn’t bring the big camera. But, the phone did just fine to capture some of the sights from Rockbridge.

It’s 4pm, and I’m alone. The only sound I can hear is the gentle hum of my Macbook that is really a sweet sort of summer-cricket-sort-of-sound to me.

I don’t have anywhere I need to be until 7pm when I will head down to a fancy dining room complete with round tables decorated with flowers and eat a meal I didn’t prepare that will be served to me by smiling faces who will also clean it up (can I hear an “Amen?”) after which I can go be with 250 other women and do some singin’ and some listenin’ before heading back to my room for more quiet.

And, this is my room from right outside my open door–the room where I will be alone for the weekend with my own bathroom.

And, this is what I get to look at outside my french doors and windows.

Oh, this is going to be a sweet weekend.

There’s a woman I know who is the Antiblog. She shakes her head at the mention of blogs. She refuses to visit any blogs. And, though she hasn’t said it in these words (yet), I know she thinks we blogging mamas are a bunch of crazies. She has told me that she thinks that blogs have created a disconnect in relationships, that people just blog rather than phone or gather to share their stories.

But, I blog. And, I really like to blog. And, I like other blogs. And, I even administrate a website that gathers blog posts from lots of different blogs and puts them in one place, that is run like a blog. (one more “blog” and now I’ve reached 7 times in one section…)

Did you know that it has been estimated that there are over 100 million active personal blog sites out there? That’s a lot. That’s a lot of people writing thoughts about a lot of different things.

When we started our adoption process back in 2007, I started checking out blogs. I found them to be great sources of information about agencies, the process, attachment, etc. And, honestly, I could not get enough of looking at families’ referral pictures and the pictures of their children once they were home a while. And, so, I took the plunge and started our own blog in April 2008. My posting was sporadic and light, wasn’t too serious about it but knew I wanted to do it.

Eventually, I started writing a little more, sharing a little more, connecting a little more. But, I was still somewhat guarded. Then, we found Lydia. And, then I really started opening up more on the blog. My blog, far from becoming a hindrance to relationships as my friend may claim, became a source of relationship for me.

“Hi, how are you? How is your family? How is your daughter doing? Does she like school? Oh good. That’s great.”

As a mother of young children, this is often how deep my conversations go with folks at church or when picking up children from school, etc. It’s usually all I can manage with a 4-year-old child pulling on my fingers (hate that, by the way) and a very active toddler squirming in my arms as my grip on her tightens and she fights me more to get down (and run). When all 4 are with me, I’m lucky if I’m able to say hello and smile.

My blog has allowed me to share more about myself and learn more about other women in my life that I’d never be able to do otherwise. I don’t feel isolated or disconnected from them–I read their blogs. They read mine. When we do see each other, we don’t have to start at square one. So, our conversation (despite the monkeys hanging on us) can go just a little bit deeper.

And, it has allowed me to connect with women who are kindred spirits who I have never even physically met. Now, I recognize that sounds strange. And, the woman at my church would probably shake her head if she read those words (which she won’t since she’s the Antiblog). But, here’s the thing–some of the women I’ve connected with from the adoption community from the Blogosphere have become some of my dearest friends. It’s true. Our shared experiences, our hearts for the same things, our desire to learn together how to be better parents to all our kids…I just love these ladies….that’s why I love blogging.

Yes, I love comments, and I love visitors, and I love having followers. That last phrase sounds a little prideful and icky….”followers.” It’s true though. There’s something that feels pretty good to know that people out there care to read stuff you write. But, you know what? Even if no one is reading this post (testing, testing, 1-2-3…anybody there? Hello?) or gives a darn about my blog, I’m still going to blog because (1) my kids will thank me one day. Okay, maybe they won’t. But, Mom, if you had blogged while I was growing up, I’d be thanking you (okay, she’s in China and not reading this either). I want to show the kids years from now fun stuff we did–maybe remind them that I was a fun mom when they hit the teenage years and think otherwise. More than that though, I want them to read my words and hear my thoughts and get even a little glimpse of some of the things that I thought about when they were young. I’d love to know that about my mom. And, (2) blogging has forced me to think through things that the busyness of life would have kept me from thinking through. I have said, “I should do a post about…” or “I really should put something together about that…” and because I have a blog, I’ve done it. The process of putting (hopefully) intelligible words together to capture a moment in our family or to express some idea has been really helpful to me personally.

So, Antiblogger, if you would read my words, I’d tell you to enjoy your deep conversations with people you are able to have because your children are grown and you are able to do that. I’ll keep blogging and going deeper when I can. But, since you won’t read my words, I’ll just smile next time I see you and tell you we’re all good and then chase Lydia as she runs away.