From Books to Blogs #1
I’ve started a new tradition. While I often pull oracle cards for guidance, I also have a collection of question books that offer their own kind of wisdom, the kind that’s curious, unexpected, and often uncomfortably honest.
This week’s question came from 3001 Questions All About Me. I opened to a random page, closed my eyes, spun my finger in the air, and let it land. The question that revealed itself was:
“When was the last time I confessed to something?”
Now that is a question.
It made me pause—not because I couldn’t think of anything, but because the word “confess” carries weight. It’s not just about admitting you ate the last cookie. Confessing can be about revealing truths we’ve been holding back—from others, from ourselves, or even from life.
And to be honest?
I really had to stretch my brain on this one. I even thought about scrolling through my text messages to see if I could find the last time I actually confessed something. Because let’s face it, most of us don’t walk around making grand admissions. We hint, we joke, we imply… but confess? That feels official. That feels like church pews and dim lighting. Or maybe a best friend with a raised eyebrow saying, “Okay, spill it.”
So, when was the last time I confessed something?
Well, if I had to name one, it might be this:
My husband and I still haven’t watched several of the movies our friends told us to watch. Not for lack of interest—we’ve just… not gotten to them. Life gets full, days blur, and somehow “must-watch” turns into “maybe someday.” (So, if you’re one of those friends reading this, consider this my official confession.)
But then, a few days ago, something else happened.
It was over 100 degrees outside. I was curled up in our living room chair, feet up, movie playing, AC humming. I was comfortable—deeply comfortable. And out of nowhere, I picked up my phone and sent my husband a message:
“I’m grateful for our home. Thank you.”
That was the real confession. The one that mattered more than any missed movie night.
It was a spontaneous truth. A wave of appreciation I couldn’t hold in. Because of this home, this space, this feeling came from his hard work and dedication. And I needed him to know I saw that. That I felt it. That I loved it.
Confessions don’t always have to be dramatic. Sometimes, they’re the simple things we finally let ourselves say out loud. A thank-you, I miss you, I’m scared, or even I’m happy.
So now, I’ll pass the question to you:
When was the last time you confessed to something—big or small?
And what might still be waiting inside you, quietly hoping you’ll speak it aloud?
Thanks for being here. If you enjoyed this post, there’s plenty more where that came from, everything from soulful healing tips to playful prompts and real conversations about life.
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