by Kim Avery

Can one blog about blogging? Is that kosher? Or is it like defining a word with the word itself? Ah well, at the risk of incurring my sixth grade teacher’s wrath, I’ll push on.

Journals

Before blogs, there was the simple journal. It came in many different colors, shapes, and sizes. I own them all. I have leather journals, cloth bound, cardboard, and homemade. I have paid over twenty dollars for a completely blank book. (I hope my husband isn’t reading this.) And I have paid a dollar for a totally tacky journal covered with kaleidoscope colors. They all work.

I love journaling. I love the soft leather cover, the parchment pages blank with potential, and the sound of my pen scratching out thoughts I never knew I had. I can cry in my journal, laugh, plan, promise, and confess – I can bleed from the inside out in shades of hot pink and in the end, it feels good.

I am addicted. I’ve tried quitting but to no avail. Walk with me past any stationary store, listen carefully, and you will hear the blank journals begin to call my name. “Kim, touch me, smell me, open me, write in me and I will change your life.” Eventually, I succumb to their siren call and indeed, they do change my life.

I begin confused and end advised, start sad and finish glad, start weak and emerge strong. God meets me in-between each ruled line and through journaling, true transformation occurs.

Blogs

Now picture the humble blog. It too, comes in a myriad of shapes and sizes and at all prices. They all work.

I love blogging. I like the click of my painted nails as they tap the charcoal black keys. I thrill to the fact that my words can finally keep pace with my thoughts no matter where they roam. Best of all, I can punch the delete key with abandon and hasn’t that just saved my life a time or two.

While journaling is a solitary sport, blogging is not. I may write alone but with the mere push of a button labeled “send,” suddenly my thoughts are on naked display for the entire world to see. For all time. Gulp.

But blogging changes me. Elegant phrases composed to make me look good somehow end up as untutored words that let you see the real me. As you peer deep into my soul, I look, too. It is worth it for transparency invites accountability. And when you leave a grace-infused comment at the end of my authentic mess, I feel God’s smile.

How about you? Journaling or blogging?