Update... sort of
It is hard to tread the line between confidence and confidentiality, largely because of the nature of what blogging has meant to me. This little corner of cyberspace has made my world so much a better place. It has enriched my faith, challenged my thinking, and brought into my life some incredibly wonderful people who have become precious to me in ways I never would have dreamed when I started. Simply stated, I miss you when I'm not here.
But this is still a wholly public forum-- accessible not only to those who are already my friends, and to those who might be someday, but also those who will never be; not only those who care lovingly, but also those who would gossip viciously, as well as those who couldn't care less. So I need to exercise more caution than I would if it were "just you and me and the fence post," sitting down with a bottle of wine and some good chocolate-- or a double order of cheese fries and root beer.
In the last few weeks it has become obvious that our family will not be having our normal Christmas. Indeed, our world has not been "normal" for a while now. However, the reasons for this are, for good and sufficient cause, entirely private.
I will tell you that we are not dealing with anything that is too awful or shameful to speak of. That's not it. It is simply that (shocking though this may be in some quarters) some of our family's news (across the spectrum from joy to sorrow) is not universally for public viewing. As my mother used to remind her children, "You don't need to tell everything you know." This is especially true of business that is primarily not my own, which is the case here. It is not entirely my story to tell, and so I will not be sharing it here. Maybe others will choose to tell their parts of the story, in their own times and ways; but that is their choice, and it is not mine to decide what that will look like.
And so... I will ask for your continued prayers, while I give thanks to God for many things. For our family, immediate and extended, and the blessings we share. We are all loved, we are all safe. We all have shelter, and none of us are hungry. We have friends who pray and play with us in generous measure beyond our deserving. We are privileged to be acquainted with good folks who go out of their way to love the "lost and least," whatever belief system grounds their doing. I am trying to be thankful even for the challenges, knowing that things could be much worse than they are. After all, we believe in resurrection-- and after a dark night, won't the coming of the light be that much more glorious?