I remember taking my first and only blogging course. My teacher told me if I had nothing to write about, I should write about nothing. I kept the thought in the back of my mind as a last resort, but realized that this blog has evolved to be a blog about something. Every week.
There are challenges to weekly writing. That’s why, lately anyway, every Thursday before I post my blog, I send a letter to the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe (now that’s an idea for a blog post…). For now, suffice it to say that I ask for the Rebbe’s blessing, that what I write should be seen and internalized by the person or people who are meant to see or internalize what I have to write.
But it’s difficult not to be affected by “the views.” Lots of views typically mean “success,” but each of us knows that every single person is a universe. That’s why I crave feedback, when someone, anyone tells me he or she “loves” my blog. It makes it all worthwhile. One person is enough.
But there always has to be something new each week for that “one person” to read.
Then came today.
I knew I was flying to Dallas to see our daughter Leah and her family for Shabbos. I thought I had written an engaging blog beforehand about how and when I say Tehillim, the book of Psalms.
It was ready to go last night. But, before I post anything, I send it to three people to review: my husband, Zev, Blumi Rosenfeld, my Jewish mentor, and my daughter Sara, my editor. Zev expressed some concerns about today’s blog. This morning, Blumi had other concerns, but I figured I could delete what she didn’t like and still have something to say.
I figured I could revisit it on my way to Dallas. That didn’t happen and I’m not sure why not.
I started talking to Meliza as soon as she complimented my purse when I sat down next to her on the plane. Even though it’s totally uncharacteristic of me to talk to a stranger sitting next to me on an airplane, ever, that’s what I did today. We spent the entire plane ride from Pittsburgh to Dallas talking about life–hers and mine. If nothing else this week, I should get at least one new view: Meliza’s. She isn’t Jewish but she gave me what felt like a sincere vote of confidence that I have a story to tell.
Driving to Leah’s house, I tried to feel like a true believer: somehow G-d would provide me with a blog.
When I arrived, thank G-d, my grand-daughters were distracting and, once I made all the changes, there wasn’t much left. I asked Leah to read the post; she didn’t think it was my best. “It’s fine, you don’t have to write every week,” she comforted me.
Her husband Levi walked in minutes later, and after barely a “hello,” I asked him to look at my post.
He read it, then hesitated. (He’s my son-in-law, not my son, don’t forget.) I insisted he give me his honest opinion.
“It doesn’t have your usual…”
I didn’t need him to finish. I had nothing that was good enough to share, it was as simple as that.
But if I don’t post anything, part of me will feel like I failed to honor a commitment I made to myself to post weekly. I’m afraid I might decide never to post again–and I enjoy writing this blog.
So please know that I tried and will continue to try to give you my best effort.
I hope that next week, in the days leading up to Shavuos, I will be inspired to write something worth sharing. G-d willing.