Despite a handful of in-person pleas of devoted readers, I’ve held pretty firm about not wanting to continue writing Texas Schmexas posts as this pregnancy progresses and gets more uncomfortable, and maybe not even continue using the blog to chronicle our ongoing journeys through the chaos of community after baby bean numero dos arrives.
(I was kidding about the adjective “devoted,” by the way–I think they were just trying to make conversation and be polite.)
Quite honestly, when I take the time to scan back over some of the posts I’ve written over the last few years–and there’s been over four hundred of them–many of them are saying the same things over and over again.
Don’t get me wrong: these are important things, these calls to community, these reminders to myself of the ways I’ve failed and been hypocritical about my own convictions, these encounters with perfect strangers that have sometimes changed me.
In a byline for a guest post I wrote at my friend Thomas’s blog last week, he called Texas Schmexas a “treasure trove of introspective writing.”
I’m not sure I’d put that bumper sticker on my car, but I do consider myself fortunate to have had time over the last five or six years to reflect on the potential of community to change us, the importance of cultivating community even when it’s hard, even when we don’t want to, and the sincere conviction that without community we really are not living out the image of God in the world.