Thank you

Thank you.

I feel intensely aware lately of how grateful I am that anyone’s reading here.  I mean that.  It’s been a difficult few monthsthat’s not a secret – and the steadfast comments here often make my day(s).

Thank you, thank you.

If you ever doubt that small actions make a huge difference, don’t.

I’m writing this the day after getting home on a redeye flight.  I don’t sleep well in general, and I really don’t sleep well on planes.  For example: Matt and I flew to Bali for our honeymoon and I didn’t sleep a wink (I wrote all of our thank you notes instead).  So, I’m tired.  It’s gray out, and rainy, and I’m exhausted, and feeling spent all around.

And yet.  And still.

There’s the beauty of the world, yes: the budding trees, the song of a sparrow in a bush, the smudge of orange on the horizon at sunset, the laugh of a child.  But there’s also so much kindness here, so much that reminds me that life is good, and that’s what I’m particularly thankful for today.

Every single message from someone who reads that lets me know that something I said resonates means so much to me.  I mean that.  Every comment, every retweet, everything.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  I’m more thankful than I can express for the solidarity and the I’m-not-alone feeling I get from every gesture.  It always means a lot to me, but even more right now.

I appreciate you.  Thank you.


44 thoughts on “Thank you”

  1. Oh Lindsey

    In fact I need to thank you. Checking your blog and get a new post is a boost for me. Each and every one of your post teaches me something or make me feel better. I so wish I could write like you but I am not there. So many things of your daily life and the approach resonates with me. Every day is a new beginning and I am hoping for the best.
    Take care and rest well Lindsey!

  2. Your words and the words of others help buoy me as well. That’s what I love about blogging and social media, despite the black hole it sometimes creates. If you can push past the noise you can really feel the warmth.

  3. I may not comment as often as I used to – but know I still read everything you put out into the world. That you’re still in this space, showing up, it makes a difference. There’s a certain steadfast consistency about your posts that is refreshing, and your loyal readers adore you for that.
    (I thought of you yesterday when I saw the Harvard bookstore email about the When Breath Becomes Air reading/discussion! Did you see that?)

  4. Right back at you. As Dana said above, your words buoy me. And not only that, but your book recommendations and all the other nooks and crannies of this online world I found through you do, as well.
    I hope you can rest. I live with a chronic insomniac and know that the world can be a bleak place when you’re tired. And still there is beauty.

  5. Thank YOU! As others have suggested, your words are a bright spot in my day. Even if your words may not always feel bright to you, they capture the ebbs and flows of life — including the grey not-as-great-as-we-might-like parts. But that’s what this journey is all about, isn’t? And what you capture so eloquently so often. Appreciating the present. Being here now. Understanding that it is all of these moments that make up life. One of your favorite quotes by Annie Dillard is also one of mine: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” And as we know, some of those days are joyful and some are less so. But they are what makes our lives. So, again — thank you. Please don’t stop writing!

  6. Back when I was blogging myself I followed nearly twenty blogs. Today I follow two consistently, and yours is one of them. I don’t always comment, but I’m always reading.

    Wishing you rest and coffee today. Take care. XO

  7. .. and always to Thank You. With gracious Gratitude for all that you share, as you continue to recognize yourself in the beauty and wonders of being in this world. As do I, in the gentleness of finding a kindred in life’s travels. ♥

  8. Thank you for your openness, insights, questions, and wisdom. Your writing makes me feel less alone on this journey. I love seeing the comments of others that feel similarly, it makes me know the world is full of others noticing and appreciating. I hope you get some rest soon!

  9. I’ve had a difficult few months as well. And I don’t comment as much as I used to but I do read when I can and I do appreciate your words. So thank you. ????

  10. Lindsey,

    I have followed your blog for years and never commented. Though I don’t have children and am twice your age, everything you write touches me. You never cross that fine line between speaking your heart and spilling your guts: a very fine line to tread! I so admire the care you take with your writing and your honesty; that you are a mother raising children gives me hope in a world that sometimes dismays me.

    Please know there are likely many more of us out here who are reading and being touched by your words but for one reason or another do not comment. Thank you for all that you offer here.

  11. Thank YOU – for your honest, thoughtful posts; for your willingness to talk about things that are sometimes difficult and not neatly tied with a bow; for opening my eyes to everyday beauty. I’m always happy and grateful to see one of your posts pop up and am glad that this corner of the internet universe brings you joy, too. xoxo

  12. Saying thank you… Such a grace-filled thing to do amidst the tough times. Thank YOU for creating words that are so worthwhile. Keep on going. You can do this.

  13. Thank you, Lindsey. I, too, am much older than you with grandchildren. I don’t post much, but do enjoy your writing. I am also a sensitive person and is has taken me a lot of years to see and accept the beauty and struggle in that. I love your awareness and authencity in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing many truths. I always enjoy your links and things you love. Hope you keep on writing so beautifully from your heart. ????

  14. Appreciation, we would hope, is a mutual virtue. It is the reason we are attracted to your thoughts and expressions.

    The song, no matter what beauty, is soundless without voice. The singer is unfulfilled without the thankful reception of her audience.

    As a sailor your experience tells you, the rough and the dark patches give way to fair winds and bright horizons. Thank you.

  15. Fairly new reader, first time commenting…

    Thank you for your words about good things, hard things, the beauty and the pain that make up our lives.

    They’re lovely.

  16. I am so glad you’re still here in this space, sharing the beautiful and the difficult (and so often life is both). Your words buoy me too, as others have said. Thank YOU. xo

  17. Lindsey, I read every blog post and appreciate your words so much! I feel like if we met in person, we could sit for hours and have a long, lovely, warm chat. Thank you for sharing your family life and your personal thoughts. It means so much!

  18. Endless thanks to you and your voice that carries the truth with your posts.

    “A great truth, attributed to Emily Dickinson, is that “hope inspires the good to reveal itself.” This is almost all I ever need to remember. Gravity and sadness yank us down, and hope gives us a nudge to help one another get back up or to sit with the fallen on the ground, in the abyss, in solidarity.” Anne Lamott

    I like to think we are all together in solidarity reading your posts and nodding in agreement. Carry on Miss Lindsey!

  19. I missed the event with Lucy Kalanithi – so bummed that I did. Did you go? Hope to see you soon. And thank you for your kind words. xo

  20. Thank you so much. To make another feel less alone in the journey is, perhaps, the highest goal I can think of. xox

  21. Thank YOU. xox Read your post this week and had trouble commenting on my phone, but I hope for smooth sailing for you, too. xox

  22. Yes, that is true, that often the windy and dark seas turn into the clear, beautiful ones. I’m waiting … xox

  23. Thank YOU for sharing your heart through your words.

    Just a bit ago, I followed a link to your post about introversion (from Oct 2013) and it really spoke to me. At 46, I’ve struggled with this all my life, especially with extroverts who don’t get it and who sometimes jump to conclusions about who I really am. I’m not shy and do love good conversation with anyone from a friendly grocery store cashier to my closest family, but large gatherings just wear me out.

    So here we are, another holiday weekend with time off and opportunities for celebration, and I just want to circle the wagons and hang with my four, and my parents who live nearby, but I worry about the kids and what their takeaway will be. They are now 15 and 13 and finding their own way socially…one more at ease than the other but both okay, even better than okay. They’re loved and happy and content and have friends whose company they enjoy, but have lots of just-family times too. Maybe we don’t need to worry after all.

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