Still Here


I started my first blog in January of 2007. In the nearly seven years that have come and gone since, the blogging world has shifted, grown and changed in ways I never could have imagined. It used to feel like we were all sitting around a kitchen table (a magic one that could add leaves to reach around the country or the world) and sharing our lives. One would offer a recipe, another something interesting gleaned from a good book, and perhaps a third would just share her hard day, and a hope for a better tomorrow.

That illusion of a virtual homey space, shoes kicked off, sounds pretty quaint now. As the blogosphere exploded in size, as stats and better blogging conferences and target audiences and product placement and book deals and recognition of blogging from other, more established forms of media grew, I slipped quietly out the back door. I just felt too daunted.

Maybe that sounds like sour grapes. Truly, it isn’t. I never mastered a posting schedule, or learned to follow the statistics and search engine optimization that helps a blogger drive traffic. I’m coming to realize that I’m just not called to that sort of professional self-promotion. Many bloggers have worked very hard to make their blogs work as a source of income, as a platform for speaking and writing careers. I’m called to quiet, to home and family, to making and baking and writing poetry and shooting photographs and trying to learn to listen.

But I’m still here at the kitchen table. I’ve made lots of false starts back into blogging, but always drawn back. I’ve asked myself what the point could be in offering my voice, given how it all feels now, so busy and loud and alien.

But there’s always a point to good conversation, to sharing a recipe that, against all odds, the kids gobbled up. There’s always a point to writing about friendship and aging parents and the beauty of nature or a perfectly baked pie. There’s always a point to putting more beauty, more joy, more questions and challenges, more wonderings and gleaned wisdom into the world. There’s space still, I trust, to share a good book’s title and a blessing.  A wink and a smile.

So, what would I tell my boys, if they came to me with something they wanted to do differently than others pursue it? I’d ask them if it was still possible to do the thing their way. And if it was, I’d tell them to go for it. I’d tell them to open their hands and male something old new again.

I’d take my own good advice, and hit publish.



23 thoughts on “Still Here

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Meredith! Thank you for stopping to comment. I still miss Like Merchant Ships, and would love to read more from you. I visit your Food for Thought to see what treasures you have found. I am choosing to believe there is still a place for this quieter blogging.

      1. kimberly

        Yes! Yes! Yes!
        I’m right here with you.
        Though I do have my etsy store. 😉
        I think blogging lost a lot of joy when it all became so…busy.
        I do miss the conversations and comments and just sharing of our lives. And I miss LMS, too!!!

      2. adailyportion Post author

        Hello Kimberly! (waving with energy!)

        I submit that your Etsy store is a distance outgrowth of what you are doing in your daily life– part of your farm work. That’s a good thing. 🙂 It is the selling of products and the work of your hands. Different than what I think I have felt such inner resistance to in the blogosphere: blogs that used to feel fueled by relationships becoming big brands. As though there is a whole lifestyle to be sold, and thus bought. (I don’t want to veer off into criticism pr judgement, just to explore if there is still room in the medium for what I’ve been missing. )

        You hit on something simple but profound– the connections and conversations and glimpses of each other’s lives used to give me such joy, and a sense of wonder that kindreds could be found across distance and difference. What I’m hearing is that is still possible. I’m so happy some others seem to want it too.

  1. bethpinckney

    I feel much of the same ambivalence you feel about blogging. Not particularly interested in promoting brand “Beth” but I’d love to sit with a cup of tea and chat. There is a place, Missy, for the quieter blogging among friends and faraway family. At least that’s all I figure is going on at my little place. And a bit of quilt promotion and sewing : ) I’m always happy when I see you pop up in my reader, always glad to know what’s going on with you, dear friend.

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Beth, you blog is actually one of the ones that encourages me that a homey, non-branded blog is still possible. I enjoy the little glimpses of life and musings you offer. ( much better still to actually be sitting together in your kitchen or mine 🙂

  2. kristinblankenship

    Missy, I can so relate to what you are saying! I have struggled with figuring out my place both in the blogging and art world, as I am not driven to follow a schedule or to really push my work out there to make a big income. I simply want to create, share and hope to touch a few hearts out there in the process. Trying to flow with the rhythm of my days, trusting that God will use me as He sees fit. I’m right there beside you, blogging quietly, my friend!

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Thanks Kristin! I had a hard time writing this. I admit to some negative feelings about how everything seems to have become about quantifying and monetizing. But for me this is more about carving out a space for, as you say, creativity and sharing.

      I love to see your art and words in my in box!

  3. Julie

    I get it and I’m right there with you. For me, blogging started as a way to communicate with family and friends, and then I learned that in some way, it started blessing others too. Yet I don’t want to add to the flood of distractions that can so easily consume precious hours. I appreciate your candor and grace and your “handful of quietness” in a noisy world.

  4. Kathie

    Thanks for expressing these thoughts so well. That’s exactly how I feel. So glad you’re blogging again. And I love that waterfall shot. Wish I could hike there with you and bring our cameras. What fun!

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Hi Kathie! I wish I could take you there– it’s Twin Falls, not too far from where I live, and so pretty! The pictures of the last week of October on your blog today are breathtaking. Along with dear Beth and Tonia, your blog encourages me that “kitchen table blogs” are still out there, still worth crafting. Thank you so much for saying hello!

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Yes! Let’s do it! There is still a corner for the Internet for us! (Actually friend, I think you’ve already been doing it– gave me the idea it was still possible. 🙂

  5. Amy Corley

    Found your blog via Tonia’s space, and am so glad I did. This entry was timely and helpful for my as I ponder my own reason for writing/blogging. I am loving the vision of the large table, drawing up close, sharing recipes, stories, lives. Just wanted to say thanks for this, and I’m pulling up a chair.

  6. Sandi

    This is lovely. I found my way here through Tonia. I stopped blogging over a year or so ago for some reasons you mention here. I edge close to coming back to quietly blog about faith, life, home and my passions but just still wondering if it is worth it. Thanks for this….I find it very encouraging that there are others who long to blog for the sake of relationship and encouragement and not self promotion and business.

    1. adailyportion Post author

      Sandi, thank you so much for commenting. I guess I would say, if it is worth it for you, it is worth it. What it took for me to come back was realizing firstly that I wanted the creative outlet, and secondly, that it did not make sense for me to not do something I enjoy and through which I have found connection because I am disappointed in some of the directions the blogosphere has headed. There are others of us “out there.” I wish you the best.


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