Linda Stoll: In Which I Tell You Exactly Why I'm Barely Online

We enjoyed a four mile hike early this afternoon. I'm pretty picky when it comes to weather conditions and my willingness to kick my flip-flops to the side and tie on my sneakers. It wasn't too hot, too cloudy, too humid ... and the sea breezes kept my spirits up even as my energy level waned as the miles ticked by.

'I miss writing,' I said, as I worked hard to keep up with his stride.

He heard me well.

Yes, there was the little #MyCozySummerHome series at the beginning of July. You can find it right here. It was fun sharing snapshots of home-sweet-home with you.

But these days substantial words are a bit elusive and somehow hard to corral. And I'm realizing, yet once again, that's just fine. I'm enjoying being free from the tyranny that blogging can sometimes engender. And as much as I miss tapping away on this ancient keyboard, it's all good and I can't say I'm heartbroken to be pretty much off-line. The pressure is off and it does this soul good to be unplugged.

I've noticed that a number of kindred spirit bloggers have vanished from sight, too. So I feel like I'm in good company. I do hope they'll return at some point.

It was three years ago this week that my dad died, the day after we moved here to do life with him and my mom. I've been thinking of him alot ... and our little grandson, Tyler, who joined him in heaven two months later. Several people I adore have been in and out of the hospital ... and like every other family, I struggle from the sidelines over a few situations I find sad and unsettling.

This has all weighed a bit heavy, obviously.

And then our eldest daughter celebrated her 40th. And that gave me even more cause for pause. 40. It seems like yesterday I was young and energetic, awestruck and completely clueless at motherhood's reality, gently pushing her on a backyard swing, entranced by her sweet spirit, her hair shining in the sunlight, the color of a newly minted penny.

She's still a beauty, inside and out. Her sister, too.

I can't tell you how much I admire my girls. Their compelling stories of devoted motherhood are theirs to tell and maybe someday they will. But meanwhile? Let me tell you they are absolutely incredible woman. I'm in awe of who God's shaped them to be. I can't help but hope that someday, maybe just maybe, I'll be just like them.

So yeah. All that.

I meet with my counseling clients throughout the summer. I just love what God is doing in the lives of these valiant women. What can I say except yes, beautiful miracles still happen. We serve a powerful Wounded Healer, don't we.

Praise Him.

I've been pulling together my CEUs for my counseling certification as well as learning the basics over at PicMonkey. I can't say I'm enjoying the PicMonkey thing and I'll be relieved when what I need to absorb is accomplished.

Technology is the bane of my existence.

And I finished downloading and printing out all 45 transcripts of Emily Freeman's fabulously inspiring podcasts. She's that splendid, that soul-provoking. Reams of her spoken words now reside in a huge white binder and I love being able to page through her soothing, practical wisdom at evening's end.

We've had company a few evenings. Simple food on the grill, burnt marshmallows over the fire, lots of sun-brewed iced tea served up with laughter and hefty conversation. I'm working on being more hospitable. Really. The spirit is willing but I am prone to laziness ... until we're gathered 'round the table with friends and my eyes rove from face to face and I wonder why we wait so long to invite these kind souls to break bread with us.

My heart soars just a bit at the gift of relationships being cultivated, enjoyed, nurtured. I'm grateful.