A Letter to My Friends

I met my husband when I was sixteen years old. We dated for a year and a half before he left to serve an LDS mission just like my son, Jordan, is doing right now. For two years, we wrote letters back and forth on a weekly basis. I realized at that time how much I loved to write (and receive) letters.

Now that Jordan is a missionary and writing is our only form of communication, I am reminded, once again, of how much joy it brings me to write a simple letter. I could write him three times every week and never tire of putting life and encouragement into words on a page.

Lately, however, I have let this online space grow a little quiet because I have lost a bit of my spark for the writing. My inspiration has been lacking in a major way, leaving me grasping for ideas that never come. Instead, I end up writing letters to Jordan that come so quickly and whose creation brings me such happiness.

Apparently, it is not the writing that is holding me back. I suspect it might be the expectation I place upon myself to write something A-M-A-Z-I-N-G every time my fingers touch the keyboard. Those are high standards to meet; I tell you. If I can’t reach them, then why write? Who will read my work? Who will care? Is it worth my time and energy?

That, my friends, is a small portion of my internal dialogue surrounding any given post. With that mindset, I am setting myself up for failure before I ever begin to put an idea into sentences and paragraphs.

So I am going to try something different.

Rather than attempting to make each post stand alone in polished grandeur, I am going to pretend like I am writing letters to a friend. Perhaps, that will break down the barrier of writer’s block that has held me hostage in recent weeks.

When all is said and done, I want this blog to be a place of friendship and encouragement. Like I have said before, I am not skilled at providing expert advice because of the obvious fact that I am not an expert. But I am really good at being a loyal friend.

So come into my kitchen and pull up a chair. I will probably be experimenting with a new recipe (I usually am), but I am always up for company. I will pour you some orange juice while you sit at the counter and talk to me about life. I crave conversation like nobody’s business while my kids are at school.

Our talks will probably be candid and casual because that is how I live. No pretense. No polish. No perfection. Instead, I hope you will find good old-fashioned belonging.

It all begins with letters to you, my friends. I can’t wait to get started.

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