When I established this blog, I decided to keep it open and honest, basically as an online journal; I never considered making nicknames for myself and my family, nor censoring which pictures and videos I would post.  I do not share my last name or exact city, but I don’t fret over people finding those facts out via things I say or link to. I understand that by making these choices, I run the “risk” of my offline and online lives intersecting.

And thus far, I haven’t minded when the two collide.  My mother, sister, brother, and his girlfriend read here regularly, and my blog address is posted to my Facebook, so I assume that any of my friends and family there could arrive here.  It is their choice to come here and read, and if they discover something about me that they’d rather not… well, hopefully they won’t bring it up over Christmas dinner.

I won’t deny that there are people I hope will not come here.  This is not because I am frightened of them, but rather that I have chosen to remove them from my life and I would like it to stay that way.  However, I’m not willing to hide.

I feel like I am standing in the middle of a field.  There is a snake in the grass at my ankles, but it is just a snake; I am surrounded by breath-taking beauty, the sun shines on my face, and flowers bloom beneath my fingers.  Birdsong fills my ears, butterflies and bees dance nearby, and I am so blessed to be where I am.

The most unexpected and wonderful consequence of being so alive online, being so public, has been the men and women I’ve met.  There are those among you who I love like siblings.

I love every moment of blogging, every moment spent tweeting with you all, and every moment of reading about your lives.  Thank you for making my field so beautiful.  Thank you for being a part of my online family.