Either do something worth writing

or write something worth reading

I’ll spare you the details. I’ve had a strange spring, and am behind on a lot in my life—including this newsletter (which I told you you’d receive on the third of each month, but here I am late on the 30th).

I’ve been working on a post about comfort zones, which I plan/hope/pray to get you on Friday. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about and re-envisioning of this newsletter; there’s so much I’m looking forward to trying and getting your feedback on.

But for now, a small-yet-significant comment.

For about a decade, I’ve started my mornings by repeating the same three sentences to myself. All words of others. All values I would love to embody.

One of these sentences is an invitation from Benjamin Franklin: “Either do something worth writing, or write something worth reading.”

For my over-11-years in the classroom as a high school English teacher, I was lucky enough to experience this damn near daily. For thousands of my days, I either did something worth writing, or wrote something worth reading. There are even days I did both.

Then, last school year, I left teaching. Ever since, it’s no longer a guarantee that I’ll live through moments that make me think, “People should know this happened.” It’s more difficult now to get the words right.

These dimmer days have been hard on my heart. I’ve struggled to convince myself that this is just a season.

Today, though, I did something worth writing about. Something small-yet- significant. Today made me want to find the right words. (And tomorrow, I’m going to try.) Today, I remembered what it’s like to feel vividly alive.

While I question if this post qualifies as “worth reading,” I’m grateful to have written it, and am even more grateful to you for reading it.

I’ve missed writing to you.