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What Blogging Means to Me

thank you

Five years ago, I made a personal act of consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and began Divine Incarnate.

Five years?!?

It’s hard for me to believe that I have been keeping this blog for five years! Not known for my ambition or follow-through when it comes to writing, this anniversary is a great encouragement for me. And I have you, my dear reader, to thank for that.

If none of my posts had ever received any likes or comments, if the blog itself had no followers, then I’m certain that I would have lost faith and stopped blogging long ago. Of course, the likes, comments, and follows didn’t come right away, but when they did, they let me know that someone was listening, that someone was on the other end of this cyber transmission taking a few minutes to read what I had written, to reflect with me on the wonders of life, both the ordinary and the extraordinary. Life is well lived when we are connected lovingly with others, through lifelong relationships or relationships of a moment. And so, I thank you all for testifying with me that none of us are truly alone. We just need encouragement to let ourselves be vulnerable in our sacred littleness and to open up to others in whatever way we can.

Hearts, hands, Sunset, Love, God

There are other bloggers who are far, far more successful than I am in terms of likes, comments, and follows, but great success can be found in simply blogging. Blogging, I believe, brings the most benefit to the blogger. Writing, I believe, brings the greatest understanding to the writer. Flannery O’Connor once said, “I write because I don’t know what I think until I read what I say.” How true! In the three decades before I started this blog, I had written for myself, not merely for my own pleasure, but for my own growth, reflection, analysis, absorption, and wisdom. I observe the world in terms of writing; I comprehend meaning and significance in terms of writing; I live, love, lament, learn, laugh, and breathe in terms of writing. By sharing what I write with you, I share my very self—in glimpses and whispers and fragments, for only God is great enough to receive the whole of a human being.

Through this blog, I open up the door of my life and welcome all visitors, devoted, wayward, strange and familiar, of similar views, of far different views, of one humanity. Although I don’t get out much myself, I may pop in to another’s open door and step into someone else’s life for a moment. Maybe yours. Perhaps we will remain passing strangers unaware of the influence that we have brought to each other (though influenced nonetheless), or perhaps we will continually meet as friends, friends who agree on nearly everything, or friends who disagree (which can often be ever more interesting.)

The original post date of this piece (this piece of writing, this piece of my life) is just after The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe and just before the holy season of Advent. In the Church calendar, it’s a time of transition, the ending of one year and the beginning of another. Having also recently celebrated a national holiday of Thanksgiving, I look with especial gratitude at the year past, a year when I have written a book. Yes, a book! (Here’s another example of the act of writing being instrumental in my comprehension of my own life: when I write that I am an author of a book, then I realize that I am an author of a book.) And this feat would not have been accomplished without you, my dear reader, keeping me to my word, encouraging me, and praying for me!

Book

Currently, the book is going through another revision (and yes, I have learned in the past several months that writing a book is easier than editing a book) but I know that it will be published, traditionally or independently, sometime soon, by my birthday, perhaps, if I go the independent route. I know this because I have told you that it will happen. I have given my word. And my word will not remain something elusive, something unable to be grasped, I will make my word a concrete reality because I respect you, am thankful for you, care for you, and do not want to let you down. This book isn’t going to be some monumental masterpiece, it won’t even be something monumental in your life, perhaps not even in mine in the grand design of things, but it will be. Even if this winter should prove to be my last winter on earth (because of my progressive disease, this thought is never absent from my planning) I will take steps to ensure that the book gets into print. Hopefully, it will only be my first book to get out there in the world!

So, now, as we venture into the season of Advent, I’m thinking about new beginnings and the fragility of life in its infancy. I hope that I don’t come across as too brave and bold in this blog, because I’m not. What I love most is the truth. That’s why I’m willing to share my limitations with you, my weaknesses, failings, difficulties, sorrows, and vulnerabilities. We’re all in this together. Nobody is perfect. Even when God became one of us, He truly became one of us, experiencing hunger and fatigue, pain and grief, as well as love, wonder, and joy. The fullness of being human is what I strive to celebrate in this blog—is what I believe God celebrates through the Incarnation. To be fully human, is, well… divine.

© 2018 Christina Chase

Christina Chase View All

I don't call myself a poet — but the beating of my heart is poetry. I don't call myself a theologian — but the light of my mind seeks the Divine. Who I am is a Child of God, a Divine Creation, a person devoted to being fully human, fully alive.

3 thoughts on “What Blogging Means to Me Leave a comment

  1. Hi Christina. Your writings mean a whole lot to me. As do your photographs– the ones you take or your parents take, but also the ones you select from other sources. I’ve been learning about icons in Eastern churches, and I find that your work has a similar effect. Beyond that, I am so happy that your book is progressing. It will definitely be worth the effort. I am grateful to have come across this blog. (Did I tell why I almost didn’t read beyond the first few lines the first time? It had to do with childhood experiences in a parochial school. I’m glad I didn’t give up.)

    Like

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