I’m 22 years old now. Suddenly older than I could have ever envisioned myself yet the world says I’m still young so I do my best to believe it. As I begin to unravel who I am after years of formation and influence under various seasons, I’m finding that perhaps there is less to me than I originally thought. I’m not sure if I’m as complex as I have always felt. Not as passionate, not as colorful, not as memorable. But this discovery is definitely not unwelcome. A weight is almost being lifted off my shoulders as I realize, day after simple day, that sometimes a blank canvas is more beautiful than a completed painting. And not because of the potential that it holds, but simply because in a world of art struggling and dying to stand out, perhaps it is the plain canvas that holds the most peace and thus, the most life, after all.
For anyone can recognize the beauty in a mountain landscape, a field of wild flowing flowers, the crashing waves. But few will notice the incomparable substance of a backyard garden. Straightforward and modest, but serving a purpose other than to be noticed by all. Yielding fruit, nourishing bones, and offering yet another blank canvas for tomorrow.
Perhaps it is an honor to be gifted with a purpose of such ease and intimate meaning.
It is for this reason that it makes no sense for me to have a blog. I don't really want any sort of spotlight. I don't want to have to pose my life to look a certain way. Having a lifestyle blog ironically made me feel less "free" in the end.
My desire is to spend my time working on my new business, Bygone Bridal, dwell in face-to-face relationships, and for god's sake... to not have to worry about what to post, how to gain followers, or how to make myself seem cooler than I really am.
So goodbye friends! It's been real.