I pinned this room over the weekend and can’t stop thinking about it. It’s so bold and decisive. The owner of this room doesn’t seem to be plagued by a desire to blend in, to follow the crowd. This room makes a statement, like it or not. After this post, I find myself in a strange place. The overwhelming majority of you like the bright, yellow walls and the crazy, abstract painting of my words here. But some of you don’t. A few of you unsubscribed but what struck me most were the brave dissenters who decided to stay around, though they don’t always agree with me. You are teaching me so much. I worked two hours on a post this morning—about nothing more than Southern women and their distinctiveness. It was mostly funny and self-deprecating, but after my computer crashed and I lost most of it, I wasn’t sure it was worth resurrecting. I am hamstrung, both by my desire to please and inspire, and by my commitment to write things that matter. And because some women who read this blog aren’t Southern, I wondered if my words would offend or divide or sound parochial and too old-fashioned. Oh, the humanity.
On a lighter note, I’m toying with the idea of painting my downstairs living room bright yellow, or some other bold color.
The real question I wrestle with is this: Do I have the grace to be who I am and the tenderness to be what you need? And when those are in conflict, do I have the courage to stay and keep painting?