prompted by my junior-high-ish desire to be popular

Sometimes I wish my blog was more popular.  I wish I had 100 comments/post and was considered a bloggy-friend by other blogging mamas. You know what I mean? Like, couldn't I possibly, at one time in my life, be somewhat "cool"?  I'm fairly certain that every blogger out there has gone through the same pity-party.  If everyone else can write about there lives and be noticed because of it, then I should, too. 

Yeah, so I might possibly have those kinds of thoughts from time to time. But then I think of all the responsibility I would have if such were the case (great privilege=great obligation).  The public eye would be on me, and I would constantly feel the need to perfect and obsess over my blog ALL THE TIME. I would have to maintain my internet life as if it was as important as the life I live day in, day out.

It just isn't that important to me.

This is how I blog:  I sit on my couch, baby pressed up to my tummy, nursing.  My left hand is pinned beneath cradling him, my right is typing this post.  I write about life, as seen through the eyes of yours truly.  I write mostly because I have family that's missing out on my baby growing up (and also because I simply love to write), and I want to make them feel as involved and informed as I can given the distance that separates us.  Blogging isn't my life.  It's an expression of me, but it's not so special as to give me identity in any way.

I think my desire to be noticed is something that really does not honour God.  HE>i.  Period.  How does shameless self promotion reflect my servitude to my loving Saviour in any way?

Thanks to all of you who read my blog.  I'm glad you stop by every now and then.  I hope that this tiny little corner of cyber space serves as a blessing to you and, most importantly, a sweet aroma to God.