<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/331179811_9ed79b86bf.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-214" title="331179811_9ed79b86bf" src="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/331179811_9ed79b86bf.jpg" alt="" width="414" height="274" /></a>
<h5 style="padding-left: 300px;">Photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/atomicjeep/">atomicjeep</a></h5>
I've encountered some important reminders this week.

First I read <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/01/05/AR2009010503341.html?wprss=rss_print/asection">this article</a>, which reminds me that numbers don't always mean what you first might think, and that not every brand of success can even be measured in numbers. Being reminded of this inspired to write the post <a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=211">When small is big and numbers are nothing.</a>

A couple of hours after writing the post—which in large part was meant to comfort and distract me from my worries about blog stats and Twitter numbers—I received an email from a stranger. I asked her if I could share it here:
<p style="padding-left: 30px;"><em>I just loved your entry about your turning point -- when you bought your house.  It made me cry, literally.  I have been at a similar turning point for a while now in my life, but unable to make that turn, probably because I only knew what I wanted to turn from, but not what I wanted to turn towards.  I think your story just gave me a warm, gentle, and much needed push on my back to have the courage, take the leap. so, thank you.</em></p>
This email, arriving out of the blue, reminds me of the primary reason I bother writing in the first place: I love the interaction and conversation. I love knowing that I'm not alone, and that my stories are touching someone else in small and sometimes even big ways.
<h3>Remembering where I've been</h3>
It also reminds me of where I've been. The post this reader is referencing—<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=26">A turning point with a street address</a>—is about what was happening in my life in early 2005, a very difficult time for me. I was clinging desperately to all the wrong things, and found myself feeling hopeless as I faced many important decisions.

<strong>I don't want to forget that critical moment in my life.</strong> It says so much about who and where I am now, and about God's grace in my life, and his ability to redeem my biggest messes.

Another reminder of this came in the form of a reader comment on the post <a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=204">Retracing my steps to the original idea</a>:
<p style="padding-left: 30px;"><em>A final thought: look at your life the last 4-5 years. Are they not only picture of God’s grace but also your willingness to be open and less intentional? How else would you have made it to where you are now? It’s quite a story.</em></p>
It <em>is</em> quite a story. Jason and I have shared it with others and marveled over it together, repeatedly.

But like all stories that aren't told and retold, with consistent enthusiasm and urgency, I can see how it is gradually fading. My life has been so good, for more than three years now—it's easy to take it all for granted and to forget  where we were, and how far we've come.

Which is why we need to be reminded.

Here are a few of the stories from back when I first started my blog. I just took some time to re-read them and remember their place at the crux of my bigger story, of brokenness being made whole.

<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=6">Love in unexpected places</a>

<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=8">A road trip with my husband's ex-wife</a>

<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=11">Worship in a warehouse</a>

<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=26">A turning point with a street address</a>

<a href="http://www.halfwaytonormal.com/?p=32">Two girls with all kinds of parents</a>