Getting real

My mom is struggling to survive stage 3 lung cancer. My firstborn will soon deliver her firstborn any day now. Somewhere in between my utter despair regarding the one end of life’s spectrum and my sheer delight related to the other is the space where I, a writer and blogger, should be writing and blogging.

But I don’t feel like it. At all.

My daughter and my mom, at Brianna’s baby shower September 9.

As a writer and blogger you’d think amidst such a range of emotion, I would want to write, would need to write.

But I don’t.

Which kinda stinks on a large scale, in the grand scheme of things. Especially in relation to my soon-to-arrive grandbaby. I'd like to have a better record here on how very special this little one is, want to share and shout to the world how blessed my daughter is to finally become a mama, how thrilled I am to finally become a local grandma.

Yet that thrill is tempered by the overwhelming sadness about my mom and my inability to do anything that makes a difference.

So I haven’t been writing or blogging… and my blog shows it.

Which is why I’m getting real with you today. Not for sympathy nor pity—though prayers and good thoughts on both fronts are welcome, sincerely appreciated—but because I want you to know why I’m not writing, not blogging much lately.

I will eventually return to writing regularly, posting more than you likely want to read. Eventually.

And I’ll surely share photos of my new grandson when he arrives. Soon.

Plus, I’ll do my best to catch up on my reviews, perhaps even share something new of another sort somewhere along the line. In hopes my blog won’t suffer too much.