It's 3:00 AM on Sunday morning, the 14th of November. I'm doing something I've not done in the ten weeks since I first started blogging on August 31…I'm writing this post from scratch, directly into TypePad (the blogging software/website). I'm doing this now because it seemed more productive than laying in bed (having awakened after several solid hours of sleep), thinking these thoughts as they drifted upward in the ether. Why not get out of bed and blog about them?

Willy (on my lap) doesn't understand. Are we getting up to eat? He paws the keyboard, and I delete his comments. If you think I veer off into esoteric babble, you should see what he contributes.

So, if this isn't the usual process, what is? Once or twice a week  I sit at the computer and do one of two things: I write up potential posts based on what's currently bubbling around in my head and heart (about 25% of the time) OR I dig through the vast garden of past journals (about 75% of the time), rooting through the weeds to find the occasional insight, observation, poem or short piece of fiction that have meaning for me. I like this metaphor of the garden, because these bits I harvest do feel like worthy vegetables or herbs brought into the kitchen to be chopped, simmered, reduced, spiced and combined into dishes to serve and savor. That process might take several days or weeks until I feel these dishes are ready to serve up. (Not all are edible; some get discarded.)

What they have in common is this: I like them. They are tasty to me, which is a metaphorical way of saying that they are significant to me; they are my truth. I get pleasure from going back to them and sampling them again–later that day, later that week, later that month. I taste. I smack my lips. Yum.

I blog to speak my voice. I blog so these tasty morsels don't dry out or rot in the field. I blog because, two and a half months ago, I felt God inviting me to do this, for him/her, for me, for us. I said yes to that invitation.

If someone else occasionally likes the taste of what I cook up–finds it nurturing or helpful, comforting or restorative, just plain fun–I'm very glad for that. What cook wouldn't be? But at the same time, I keep reminding myself that I will continue even if nobody stops by to sample, because I'm doing it for God…or for me…or for God…or for me…or for us, at the point where that distinction no longer matters.

I'm reminded of the line from the Psalms, "O, taste and see that the Lord is good." I've tasted the goodness of the divine. Cooking up blog posts celebrates that tastiness. Here, have a bite. Let me know what you think. Enough pepper? Too much garlic?

Text and image © 2010 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.