{Returning to Richmond}

A story about how I met my wife and a post for those who felt left behind.

Two hundred and twenty eight days of silence. It’s understandable why some of you felt left behind. It was not a graceful pause, nor was it my proudest season. Even though no explanation is owed or validation needed I hope these words offer you some form of clarity about how I landed here.

I should begin by saying my story is messy. In fact, I’m pretty sure it should come with a warning label or at least be wrapped in caution tape. I’ve learned to be okay with this, because life is messy. I have loved hard. I have made decisions that have hurt people. I have learned from others. I am still growing.

Recently my wife reminded me raw eggs and oil eaten individually don’t taste very good. However, when mixed with other ingredients they can still make a bomb ass cake. I share this because it was an unexpected reminder that my goodness is just as much a combination of my hurts, habits, and hang-ups as it is my courage, kindness, and humility— no part of my story is ever wasted. Neither is yours.

So, buckle up, brave ones. Here are just some of my eggs and oil.