We’ve talked about the Barbies here before, how my sister and I played so differently with them when we were little, how she made homes out of nothing and I made drama out of nothing. She nested, I storied. And still, now. She very graciously wrote about my book on her blog last night, and of course it made me weepy because, you know.
But this week, weepy is my new normal. So many of you showed up to support and encourage me and my nervous self, and I’ve been living in on the brink of the floodgates for days now. Ann I and have talked about how this book writing path is so very much like a birth – and then Amber said this:
“It’s been neat how open you’ve been about this journey – and now it’s like hundreds of us women are crowding into the delivery room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of this precious birth.”
–Amber, Grace 2 Be
And so even though there are six months to go until she arrives, (the cover is finally up!) I have been so thankful for your sincere support and connection. Even though I’ve written the book to out her, that good girl still lingers. And she has impossible expectations of me. But your voices have been God-words, true and loving and received. And I wanted to extend a most sincere thank you.
It’s been work to close the laptop this week, to get down low to the ground with my son and enter into fantasy; to watch the girls move the dolls hands, watch them form the crayon circles and read the words, slow and sounding out. I’m breathing in their slowness, learning to keep with their rhythm. In the midst of new emotions beginning to unearth this week, I am letting myself embrace their smallness and let it be my own.