Yes, while I was healing, life was reshuffling.
I have not been blogging for a few weeks, not because I did not have things to say, but because I needed to let the silence speak first.
In that quiet space, life got loud in its own way.
A dump truck of lemons pulled up and unloaded straight into my lap. And let’s be clear: I don’t even like lemonade.
One by one, those lemons came rolling at me, some sour surprises, some long overdue truths. Rosie came down with kennel cough, even though she was vaccinated. That daycare is now permanently behind us. My knee, freshly stitched and achy, taught me how to climb stairs like a warrior and descend like a toddler. Grace looks like small, wobbly steps sometimes.
The computer crashed. Files vanished. A hard drive danced with drama. People didn’t show up when I needed them. I had to learn what to do by trial and error, and I did. I spiraled at first, then I slowed down. I stayed grounded.
And then, I cleaned my slate.
Not a soft sweep. A scorched-earth clearing. I didn’t just erase what no longer served, I obliterated it. Because sometimes, healing requires that. Not just rest, but release.
During this pause, I also reopened my shipping department and started sending out more copies of The Unforgiven Walk Alone. A 5-star review popped up, quietly reminding me that my work still lands in hearts that need it. That matters more than noise.
This week, I am meeting with a designer to make some beautiful changes in my living room, because the inside of my life has shifted, and my space deserves to reflect that. Healing is not just internal; it echoes through our surroundings.
So no, I have not been blogging. I have been becoming again.
And maybe that is the best kind of content after all.
If you’re finding yourself in a season of reshuffling, whether by choice or by force, you are not alone. Sit with it. Walk gently. And when you are ready?
Clean the slate.
Obliterate what no longer fits.
Make room for what is coming.
Love,
Carole