The cat’s outta the bag

So I’ve had this little blog for several years now. Actually, I’ve had this one for two, and had another one for 2-3 years before that. What can I say, I’m a writer… an expressive personality, and a bit gabby. Plus I really enjoy going back and reading about things from the past. Just yesterday I found a stack of notes for the book that has been swimming around in my head for about two years now, and it was so fun to read some of my ideas which I had long forgotten. So this is why I write things down. Why I share those things with you… well that I don’t really know.

But I don’t really tell people about the blog. I let my friends discover it on their own. So it made me laugh a few days ago when Sister Sarah called and in the midst of our typically random sisterly conversation (I have the BEST conversations with her… she’s amazing), she blurted out… “Bethe, I think you need to start a blog. Something for our Sunday School class… you know, like Beth Moore, but only something more ‘you’ instead.”
I had to grin inside and felt kind of silly admitting that I indeed have a blog (although not exactly a Beth Moore blog… mine isn’t even a fraction as fabulous), so I just told her I’d think about it and moved on. I’ve bounced around the idea of writing something simply for girls at my church, but it seems a bit presumptuous, and I do share some scripturely insights on this one anyway.
So fast forward a little…
Tonight I went and saw an absolutely dreadful movie with my family (I won’t even tell you which one… but it was horrendous) and afterward we went to “celebrate” at our favorite restaurant nearby. Again Sister Sarah brought up the whole “blog” idea, and that’s when my mom got a mischievous grin on her face and said, “Well Bethe, don’t you already have a blog?”
Um… my mother doesn’t know about this blog. How embarrassing! But wait… she does.
(gasp)
So I admitted the blog to the family. Turns out my dad knew too. So then I asked my mom… “So if you’ve been lurking all this time, how come you never mentioned it? And why have you never left a comment?”
And that’s when my very own mother said, “Well, it’s not like I read it that often.”
Mmmm… thanks mom. My own mother knows that I write on a regular basis, and yet she doesn’t bother to actually read it. I felt so very loved right about that moment.
But I’m sure that she was overcome with guilt and is now catching up on all my ramblings from the past few months. So hello, mom, and welcome. If you look carefully, maybe you’ll find some nice things I wrote about you, seemingly behind your back.

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