100 Posts

This entry marks 101 entries on this particular blog site! That means the 100th entry slid in without being noticed by this blogger.  But it deserves a small celebration.  A nod of recognition for the written centennial that it is.  Talk shows, sitcoms, and nighttime dramas boast of their centenary significance with special guests or balloons and cake or bold numbers splashed across the screen.

I'm not asking for any of that, though if the cake was filled with lemon curd and dressed in a creamy coconut frosting, I'd be hard pressed to turn it down.  Especially if it was presented by a special guest -- say an out of town relative from California, Colorado, or Wyoming, why, Missouri even springs to mind, oh, and did I mention friends in far flung places like New Mexico with their own HALF centennial fast approaching?   

A perusal of the posts reveals no particular pattern save a passion for writing for the sake of learning, teaching, seeing beauty, feeling pain, conveying hope, digging for truth, and introspectively journeying to inner places for the sake of outward edification for others.  I cover the people in my corner of the ring and the goings-on in their lives: enough variety and range to fill several interesting blogs and more than a few fascinating books.  Here and there I take hold of a current event and attempt to opine.  Sometimes the garden creeps in, often via the pesky Bermuda grass which plagues my landscape.  Even the family pets manage to nuzzle their way into a literary scratch behind the ears.

Overall, I do believe my specialty seems to revolve around focusing on the minute and enlarging through the macro-shot lens of the  keyboard to reveal the useful, and often ignored or unseen, detail.  Perhaps the binding theme might be that 'small things do matter.'  Because in the broader scope of an entire planet, I'm not all that significant except to my self and those who love me . . . and the bill collectors.  To the world at large, I am but a busily scurrying ant amongst millions of other busily scurrying ants.  It's up to me to ensure that the scurrying at least involves a purpose, a direction, a starting and resting and stopping point, before I cease to scurry.

The importance of this blog to me over the past year -- the first words posted on August 9th, 2009, to be exact -- can not be downplayed.  It has kept me going and given me my own personal purpose.  A purpose set aside from the hard work of mothering and other labor-oriented efforts nicking notches in my belt.  Regardless of readership, I'm doing it.  And doing it for me with a desire to have it reach others.  My ego does not mind a gentle stroking now and again, to be honest, but there's nothing inflated or exaggerated in that department.  Think Sally Fields receiving her second Oscar in 1985 for Places In The Heart, sincerely pleased to realize that for doing her job well and good the Academy liked her.  Yes, I'm weak.  I want to be liked and, as an extension, I would be ever so grateful if the gift I hope to develop, the passion with which I try to pursue it, could get a, "Whoop! Whoop!"

But I don't want to be liked by everyone, nor would I ever expect such.  Besides the fact that it's simply not possible to please, interest, help, and befriend the masses, it would be far too exhausting.  And my character would most likely bend like Gumby.  What I have to say if not for everyone.  Probably not even for many.  In today's media climate, I'm not willing to divulge the juicy stories and secrets hungry readers are always prepared to devour in order to fan the flame of my own popularity.  Nor am I willing to manipulate words for salacious effect: I may indeed have earned the title of long-winded blogger, though I prefer 'descriptive and detailed,' but gossipy I am not.  I possess no trendy gimmick or trademark useful in achieving any instant attention or celebrity status.  My affection for language and words prohibits me from taking the abusive liberties with self expression that countless individuals do.  What I do have at my disposal is an earnestness to see wrongs righted, no matter how long that might take.  Faith in the Lord, patience for the long haul, a genuine love for my fellow man, and a willingness to admit when I'm wrong are the tools in my toolbox.  And I didn't find them at The Home Depot.

Thanks for sticking with me over the past year and through the 100 + 1 entries I've logged on this online journal here at blogger.com.  It's been therapy, the practice of my evolving craft, and fun, all rolled into a rather cumbersome but still manageable ball.  And I'm much too reluctant a suburbanite to stop now!