So it took me 3 days to tell the story of how Mick and I met.
What I would really, really, really, really hate is if someone were to read the past three day's posts and think, "Oh- her life/marriage is perfect." I would really, really, really, really hate it if someone were to read anything that I write and go away feeling bad about their own life. And you know why I think someone might do that? Because I do that all the time. I read people's blogs- read about their wonderful, exciting lives and the incredible places they live and the amazing things the do with their kids and husbands and families and I go away feeling depressed about my very, very real, very, very daily life.
Cause here's the thing: we can all paint any picture we want on here. We all only show what we want to show, reveal what we want to reveal. All of us. Some of us are more transparent than others, but even the gut-wrenchingly honest ones are still just sharing what they want to share.
I have a pretty amazing story about how I met my husband. It's true- every word of it. But if someone went away from reading that three-part story and imagined a perfect life following that perfect meeting, they would be wrong. I refuse to go into any details, but I also refuse to act like my life is perfect. My life is hard. My life is great. I live in a constant flux between allowing God to give me peace and joy and longing for connection and happiness to come in other forms. That's just me. These are the cards I've been dealt and most days I do a pretty good job of finding the joy and focusing on the good. I fail a lot. It's not always easy.
And I guess after three days of sugary, sunshiney posts I just needed to put that out there.