I’ve mentioned before that I took down some of my posts while I was serving in a “further restricted” position on a rotation this year. Well, that ended over a month ago and so, now that I’m back to being a “regular”-ly restricted person, I have re-published the posts. There were only a handful of them that I hid from public view and even that effort was probably over-kill: since I didn’t write them while I was further restricted, but before, and since I didn’t solicit for any campaigns during the process and just wrote about my own personal opinions of people and issues, there was really nothing to worry about. But I’m a goody-goody and I like to follow the rules all the time, so I went the extra mile to be careful. No surprise there, really.
But now, I’m back, and so are the hidden pieces of this blog’s history. It may be of little point to make public posts from 6 to 8 months ago that were already read by my [very tiny] reading public, but I read a blog about this a while back that made me decide that any posts that could be reposted would be. The post was written by one of the main BlogHer contributors, Melissa, entitled “Deleting Your Blog is like Going Back on a Promise.” And basically, if you don’t want to click over and read it [you should!], her point was that blogging is kind of a weird phenomenon. We can write a blog and it becomes a creation, a living part of the internet world. Readers or writers may link to it, comment on it, disagree with it, respond to it, creating something else that is separate but still connected to the original creation. However, so easily, almost without a pause, the original creation can disappear and the responses, comments, links, and citations are just hanging out there, missing a piece, no longer quite the same. She didn’t say there was anything wrong with deleting or removing content — these webspaces are personal, and each of us can control, shape, and change what we post — just that removal of content has a butterfly-effect that we often do not consider.
It’s a big responsibility, this weird thing we do. And some of the posts that I hid from public view were the ones that made me feel most creative and alive, and that connected me to new friends. For example, the series I started explaining that student loan forgiveness is a more complicated mess than the dialogue seems to acknowledge is now back online, as is the post-State of the Union response that connected me to a new blogger-friend named Molly. It feels good to bring those little gems of my writing life — the ones where I felt excited to get high volume views and comments from outside of my usual circle.
As I mentioned yesterday, I’m beginning a new book this week entitled A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans. If you haven’t purchased it yet and are interested in the modern conversations about whether the bible really says that women belong “in the kitchen,” please purchase it and leave a comment here so I know you are thinking about these issues and we can discuss further. I’m planning to read the first chapter this evening, but am already affirmed that this is an important conversation for me, for today: H and I returned to our church after a bit of a hiatus, and they were scheduled to vote on the ordination of two [female] candidates who have been called to full-time ministry. It’s beautiful and weird, the way our lives our pieced together.