The purpose of this blog?

I was thinking about this blog today, and about myself and perhaps motivations for writing and I was reminded of a quote that Mr. Rogers (yes, THE Mr. Rogers) carried around with him often. It was said by a woman named Mary Lou Kownacki and it went, "There isn't anyone you couldn't love once you've heard their story." I think I am there, at least I try to be there, with other people. It is often hard to get past the first impressions that we get, but I have found them to be wrong in many cases. Everyone has a story, and every one is created in His image. My previous job experiences have helped me to look for and see God more in people. There are other reasons for this as well, ones that are far more personal, and perhaps the subject of a separate post. At any rate, the reason that this came to mind in the first place, and perhaps a reason for blogging is that I want to be known. No matter how shy I am, or guarded, or quiet, I want to be known. I feel misunderstood so often, more so then I feel understood. In fact, I think it is rare that I feel understood, unless I purposely leave parts out to "simplify" what is really running deeper within me. Yet I still want to be known. For all the fear that comes with letting someone in, I want to be known. For all the risk of exposing what is underneath the armor, I want to be known...

And I think at the end of the day, I want to be loved, and I feel that I can't be loved if I am not known. I can't believe that I am loved if I have secrets, if there are things that I have hidden, fears, transgressions, wrongs, thoughts, secrets, all things that for better or for worse are a part of me... are me. Without this knowledge I am empowering someone to only love part of me, and thus only partially love me. Which as I write it seems to draw trust in as an issue... I know I have been hurt, and I know that it is hard for me to trust people, not only because of how things have gone down in past relationships, but also because it is hard for me to trust, to really believe, that someone can love me. I know the depths of my heart, and the depths of my sin. My flesh is dark. It is dirty. There are some real skeletons in my closet. Sure, they are not as bad as others, but still they are there. And they can't be gotten rid of. They can be exposed. They can be seen. They can be understood. They can be forgiven. But they can't be removed. Who knows, maybe I even want to keep them in there so I have something to hang my coat on... For better or for worse, they are a part of who I am today.

Skeletons can be scary, but we all have at least one of them. And they all have a story. This post got a little ramblish, but hopefully some coherence can be seen. I am not much for the "delete" key, it doesn't seem very honest at times, at least not as honest as not using it. While minds can change, and grammar corrected, there is something to be said for a snapshot of the progression of thought in my mind. I know better, and I hope that I am humble enough to realize that I am always learning. But the journey still has value even when the destination is reached.

Listening to Thriving Ivory's self titled debut album.