When my kids were toddlers, it was crazy. Our toddler-hood lasted a good decade, which just meant I didn't sleep for ten years. The craziest was when Calvin was born. He was the fifth in less than nine years. At the time of his birth we had an 8 year old, a 6 year old, a 3 year old, and a newly two year old. Then the January birthdays hit and it didn't seem as crazy (on paper) but it was complete chaos. Three kids in diapers, nursing an infant, homeschooling the two "big kids." The kids seemed like same-poled magnets, always running in opposite directions. Lots of learning how to be a big family. Lots of crying for all of us. Lots of my kids getting to see me as I really am.
This year, The Good Logger is three. On February 7, 2018, Scott Mitchell and I launched this blog, really with very little clue what was happening. Honestly, I always forget what year this blog was "born" because it feels much older than three. In the last three years we've posted about a variety of topics, raised a lot of money for charities we care about, and reflected on life and grace and God and hope. It's been wild.
The blog's name comes from an essay by Wendell Berry in the book Our Only World, a collection of ten essays. Berry quotes knowledgable sustainable forester Troy Firth in his third essay of the book, "A Forest Conversation." Troy says, "A bad logger goes to the woods thinking of what he can take out. A good logger goes to the woods thinking of what he should leave." This quote has guided this little space for three years, and yet it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I even read this essay. (That may mark me as a bad logger, but I am willing to admit that I am faulty and learning to walk as a toddler does. I fall down a lot.)
What is a good logger? I think after three years of intentionally writing here, a good logger is someone who is slow and patient. Later in this same essay of Berry's he says, "To say that the good care of the forest, as of all the world's places, depends upon love is, sure enough, to define a difficulty. But not an impossibility. The impossibility is that humans would ever take good care of anything that they don't love," (p. 51, Our Only World). One must love something to be a good logger. Troy Firth certainly loves the forests for which he cares.
After three years, I can say I love this corner of the internet. I don't care how many views any particular post gets, or even if it gets read at all. I love it because it's my little forest I get to tend even if it sometimes seems to run away from me as two positive poles of magnets repel one another.
I love it because it helps me worship my creator through words and reflection.
Side note: I am planning to move away from promoting TGL on social media, transitioning to a more email-based platform. If you want to be added, subscribe!