Empty.

This is supposed to be my 100th post.
I had big plans for this milestone: a video, a few giveaways, including some of my artwork, and links to some of my most faithful and influential readers: the ones who came first and stayed, the ones who encourage and inspire, the ones with whom I've now formed a deep connection.

But for some reason I can't do it.
I wake up every morning with my head in a fog. My legs can propel me toward the office.
My fingers can make their way across the keyboard. But my brain refuses to engage. And my heart's not in it. My heart is with a son who is right here, but lost. With a daughter who is aching to understand and feels like her world is falling apart. With a husband whose work day seems interminable, whose heart seems impermeable, whose pressures seem insurmountable, and whose goodness is great. With a smallish child who has no idea how tenuous his world is right now, but must keenly sense that all is not right. My heart feels like putty, and wishes it were some kind of amazing superglue.

For some reason, today, I'm coming up empty.