Every morning, before the dog gets restless,
before the world is fully awake,
I sit down in the sandpit.
That’s what blogging feels like to me—
a place to play with words,
to dig deeper into something that caught my attention:
a sermon, a podcast, a story, a conversation.
I turn it over in my hands like a shell,
wondering what shape it might take.
Sometimes I start with a prompt.
Often I don’t know the answer right away.
That’s the fun of it—
not performing what I already know,
but surprising myself,
following words to places I didn’t expect.
It’s play, yes—
but play that ventures out into the world.
As we get older,
it’s tempting to settle for the safe and the familiar.
Blogging keeps me curious,
keeps me exploring.
I blog to honour the people in my life—
family, friends, colleagues, those who have shaped me.
Writing about them is a way of looking more deeply
at what makes those relationships so precious.
It’s a way of sharing that gift with others,
and of keeping a record for the future—
a small archive of love and gratitude
that won’t easily be lost.
And it’s practice.
Like building castles in sand,
one post isn’t permanent.
But each one strengthens the hands,
teaches me how to shape,
how to see,
how to write.
That’s why I blog.
Because every morning,
the sandpit is waiting.
The Afterword 
Leave a comment