Welcome Home by Renee Mathis

Green and Growing

Hello friends!

Welcome to the first “Welcome Home”.  It’s been a bit of a journey to get here. I’ve called little corners of the web home before: Xanga, Blogspot, Wordpress, and even my very own homepage that I paid for and…just couldn’t bring myself to use. It’s ok. Something good has come from all of them, even my dollars-wasted site, because that’s how I ended up with the beautiful drawing of my house, complete with the yellow door. Keeping up with a real home is enough work; maintaining a virtual one is not for me. Enter the easier world of the email newsletter. Let’s see where this takes us!

Why write this? Because writers like to write. We can’t not put words on a page. Even the prospect of doing it badly is worth pursuing, because somewhere in there, in the word-wordle-wordleyness in my head, there might be something valuable that will surface, take shape, and fully-formed make its place in the world. Does the world need another writer? No, but maybe you do. Maybe something I say will resonate or encourage or inform or amuse or touch or just give you a few minutes respite from an otherwise crazy day. If so, then I’m thankful to have been a part of your life. That matters.

Why write this now? Because back in 2020, when I tried starting a blog in a new place, in a new season, in new circumstances, my friend M. sent me a comment and asked if there were a way to subscribe to my blog. She reached out and encouraged me and wished me well. And I didn’t write and the blog died in the midst of a lot of life events. And last month M. passed away. I wish I had kept writing. I wish I could have blessed her the way she blessed me. I’m thankful for her life and for the chance to honor that request even after she’s gone.

About this picture… Green and growing? In January? Wouldn’t “brown and brittle” be more appropriate? Meet my onions. (If you want to read an entire chapter on onions, I highly recommend Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon. That man can wax rhapsodically, stirringly, and poetically raise the humble onion to heavenly heights.) My onions came home from the supermarket and when I trimmed them, I grabbed an empty pot from the garage and planted those 7 little shoots. There is nothing so fulfilling or amazing, I’m convinced, as seeing things grow and come to fruition. There are a lot of lessons here and I’m sure I’ll write more about what I’m learning. But for today, I’ll rejoice in growth and life and new beginnings.

Housekeeping: This newsletter is free. My goal is to write once or twice a week. You can expect a mix of recipes, reflections, recommendations, and whatever else is brewing. Bad poetry is on the way. (Because if you don’t have the courage to write badly, you’ll never get better!)

Welcome Home!

Renee

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