The Fork

I was talking with a friend recently about our kids, and commiserating over false friends and broken hearts that hurt us mamas far more than they hurt the kids, and she had these words of wisdom:

This is the point in their lives, she said, that they come to a fork in the road. This is the point where they decide who they are, and who their friends are. Kids they’ve been friends with their whole lives, suddenly don’t fit anymore. And that’s OK. This is the point where they grow up and become themselves. They release what isn’t working for them anymore and move on.

It’s not a crisis; it’s growing pains.

Safe to say I’ve faced my own fork in the road, as well.

There’s a reason there haven’t been many blog posts since, oh, January 2015… until this past week, that is.

And though I could fill many blogs with all the sordid stories of lies upon lies, abuse and betrayal and shattered dreams and crying my body weight in tears that forced me to stop writing because I could barely stop the drowning, I won’t.

Not yet, at least.

But the last four years have hardly been all horrible.

It’s been a lot like Psalm 40, the one Bono sang about. There was a pit and some miry clay, for sure, but then there was God lifting me out of it and setting my feet on a rock. It was most definitely God, and I came to love Him in a whole new way that I never would have had it not been for the pit and the clay.

I can’t wait to tell you that story.

But back to the fork.

I have loved this blog. It’s been a creative outlet for me since 2006. It’s woven into the fabric of my life, and there are pictures of my kids as tiny babies here. I have been Melissa From the Blue House for over thirteen years. I LOVE that I have this scrapbook of their lives because I love looking back and remembering so, so many happy times.

I LOVE looking back at my Blue House, that tiny little renovation project that started this whole thing. That house, and raising those kids in it, was my dream.

But I moved out of that house in 2010.

And a lot changed in the nine years since 2010. #understatement

This blog was my therapy through all of it. I loved telling my stories, and NEEDED to tell my stories, and I was amazed that so many people actually read it. I’ve made friends from all over the country through this blog. There have been so many signs that God gave me something here…

… and I’m supposed to be using it.

God gave me a voice.

God gave me an audience.

God did.

And I could fill many blogs with all the sordid stories of all the ways the enemy tried to destroy that, but I won’t.

Because God says to talk about what’s true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable. I’ve tried my best to delete everything on The Blue House Blog related to the parts of my life and the people in it who were NOT lovely and admirable, and it’s left gaping holes in the blog.

The Blue House itself is on it’s second set of owners since I left in 2010.

I have thought for the past four years about deleting The Blue House Blog and starting over, but the stories here on this blog are an important part of my history. I just refuse to let it be a monument to the shattered dreams and painful memories.

And so I’ve decided not to bury the Blue House Blog, but I can move on from the Blue House.

Did you know I have a new (old) house now?

It’s yellow. And it’s an amazing story. I can’t wait to tell you about it.