Interludes

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In 2004, on a whim, I started a blog. A lot of women on the homeschool message board I frequented were doing it, and I am always up for a good bandwagon.

I posted photos of my knitting projects and “Which Jane Austen Character are You?” quizzes. I did a series of posts on “How to Homeschool.” (A how-to on homeschooling when my oldest was eight. It was adorable.)

A lot of good came of it. I made some friends. I wrote a book. I got some freelance writing jobs.

Hitting pause

In 2015, a lot started happening. Besides navigating the normal life events that all parents of teenagers face, the rest of my life got busy. An opportunity in pharmacy arose, and I took it. My world was suddenly noisy, and I needed one less thing. One day, on another whim, I set my blog to private so I could take a minute. I thought I would have it back up in a couple of months. Ten years went by.

I did attempt to republish some posts a few years later. But my content was tangled in a knot of html that I didn’t have the wherewithal to fix (pro tip: some of those updates are important). I shut my laptop and went on with my life. I started to think of writing as something I used to do.

Things started shifting recently. I remembered how much joy blogging gave me. The kids have grown up, so now I have the margin. Setting this blog up was NOT like riding a bicycle, but it’s starting to come together and I am ready to roll.

According to the career gurus on LinkedIn, I’ve done it all wrong. You don’t build a career in healthcare by leaving the workforce for a decade. You don’t succeed as a writer by burning down your blog.

Don’t get me wrong. Nobody was happier to leave the workforce and stay home than I was. I didn’t plan on ever returning. But then I did. Being a writer was a dream I had held since childhood. I didn’t plan on giving up. But then I did. Should I have stuck with one or the other? Am I really all that flaky?

We don’t seem to celebrate the interludes. The gaps in which nothing much happens. But interludes are necessary, and they are often good. It’s all in how we look at them.

Interludes are where we heal and learn

This is more obvious when quit a job to go to school or take time off for surgery. But even when we aren’t making visible progress, we are still being molded by just living. Sometimes we are learning patience. Sometimes we are acquiring distance and perspective. All of these things are necessary for what God has next.

My years as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom didn’t help me move up the career ladder, but the living I did in those years made me wiser. They were also a sweet season with my children. The years where I was mostly writing in my journal were filled with life experience that informs my thoughts and words.

Interludes have a purpose we may never see

In Genesis, Joseph languished for years in prison and then as a slave before he ever knew the purpose was to save his family. I once spent nine months at a job that I found rather awful, but I made a connection that led to my current role. Sometimes we never know the reason, but our sovereign and good God always does.

I don’t think God is planning for me to be the next Joseph. I do know that he has “marked out my appointed times” (Acts 17:27). I don’t need to know the reason, because I know I can trust God.

Interludes are necessary

In a play or concert, the interlude is the time we stretch our legs and go to the bathroom. Scripture contains “interludes” like the sabbath and Jubilee years. The God who created us knows that we need rest. We should accept them for the blessings that they are.

Things often look easier in hindsight. When the urgency of the moment has ended and the physical exhaustion has passed, I can fool myself into thinking that I could have worked full time and raised a family and maintained a blog if I had just tried harder. For me, that wasn’t realistic. We all have different circumstances and capacities, but everyone needs margin and pauses.

The impact when a blogger steps away from the Internet is similar to when you take your hand out of a bucket of water. A part of me worries that starting a blog in 2025 is the digital equivalent of opening a brick and mortar video rental store, but Google AI assures me blogging isn’t dead, so I’m going with it.

I am excited to be back, and hope you will be reading along.