Skip to main content

Why I Haven't Been Writing

Because of everything....and because of nothing.

Yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of my backpack of stories.  Seems like a proper time to break the silence in celebration.

It's been a year since we announced to the world that we heard God calling and we were ready to say "yes"....shout "YES!"

It's been a year that we've been grieving for our brothers and sisters and babies in Africa.  We've been grieving for our own hearts too.  Since our eyes have been opened, we've become appalled at the selfishness and indifference we found in our own hearts.  It had kept us blissfully ignorant for the first 40 years of our lives.  That has been the deepest grieving and is teaching us desperate repentance. We will not live the same, regardless of what that means to our comfort or "American-ness."  My heart can't stand it anymore.

It's been a year of cathartic writing.  This blog has been like a "plate of awesome with bodacious sauce all over it" for me.  (Kung Fu Panda is the babysitter of choice while Momma writes!)  Writing has transformed my thought life.  I think in blog posts, dream in blog posts, my house is littered with the beginnings joted on notecards by the bed, shower, kitchen sink.  There have been a lot more beginning thoughts, but the real story is how many more ending thoughts there have been this year.  And how many actions connected to thoughts there have been.  Isn't that really the proof that's in the pudding....new thoughts that turn into new actions?  Thank you for letting me process out loud, for letting me finish thoughts and for letting me leave things hanging until God finishes them in me.

As 2011 came to an end and I was starting to realize how much my soul has been forming through the writing, I got eager and  list-making and goal-setting on it....the death knell of things real.  I have a great knack for choking the life out of something good and organic with rules, procedures and goals.  Ask my kids how many routines, plans, and chore charts we've started.  I should have known better......but I threw caution to the December winds and set a writing goal - 1 blog post a week for 2012.  I was going to become a serious writer - squeeze more goodness out of the honeycomb I'd been tasting.  Then, to keep me "accountable" or sprinkle "guilt dust" over each week, take your pick, I spoke the goal aloud to my hubby and the girlfriends.  January was great, 4 for 4, I got a little smug.  February I only managed 2, but remained confident of my ability to catch up....gotta leave room for the spirit to move you know.  March, 2.  And now here we are at the end of April.....nothing!  Let's just say it - 15 weeks of 2012, 8 blog posts...9 if you count this one.

I can't write another one so soon after the last one, no one wants to hear from me that often.  I'm too tired, the laundry's too far gone, the tv's too appealing, the computer bench's too uncomfortable.  I read my favorite sister bloggers out there, get encouraged, wish I had written what they wrote and then give in to the "why bother."  I make more rules about how I'm gonna do it...birthday posts for all my kids....and then get handcuffed by the fact that my littlest peanut's birthday came and went a month ago without her story hitting the paper, er, screen.

Which doesn't really matter, I know Mom. I can hear you dialing the phone to tell me that I'm obsessing about ridiculous things - and I know, I agree.  That's why I'm saying it out loud.  Putting actual words to those vague thoughts takes away their power over me - they look silly in the light!

But what is a big deal is the monster pride and it's ugly twin fear that I let have control.  Whether or not I write anything for the rest of my life, on this silly little blog or elsewhere, matters not.  What matters, my friends, is that we give pride and fear the reins of our lives so often, in the extras and in the essentials.  I'm feeling mad enough to fight back today... so I wrote.  I wrote to get some resolve rather than waiting for the resolve to write.  And it worked, felt good.  Get some yourself!



What do you need to do today to wrestle those reins back from the ugly monsters?  Don't wait for resolve, girlfriends, stand up and go get some!



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fear - You're Not the Boss of Me Anymore! - Part 1

I had a recurring nightmare as a child. It woke me in the middle of the night and kept me awake worrying about whether it would fill my mind as soon as I closed my eyes. I thought I would outgrow it. I hoped my adult brain would be able to see things my child’s brain couldn’t and I would be free. Instead, a panicky fear of my Dad dying followed me into marriage and parenting. I’m 49 years old and until recently, the nightmare still showed up in various forms.
This year my beloved Daddy died. I watched him take his last breath in front of me and imagined him arriving with the next in heaven. My whole life I’ve been clenched up around the fear that watching him die might break something inside of me and I couldn’t survive. 

It didn’t happen. I’m more okay than I ever thought possible. My dad isn’t living anymore, he’s not here on earth for me to talk to or touch and I’m sitting upright and in my right mind. Today I’m amazed at my okayness. Finally being free of this fear I’ve lived with s…

What You Need, When You Need It - The Glorious Table

We ate steak at the fanciest place in town, me and my sister, our husbands, and our parents. Around the table, we joined Mom’s reminiscing. We retold our favorite stories of family vacations and holidays. We revealed some silly childhood secrets. And we listened to Mom’s stories from fifty years she and Dad spent together. One of our favorite stories is of the birthday Mom expected a diamond ring but went home from their swanky dinner with a shiny new set of hot rollers. Whenever Mom tells that story, instead of making fun of Dad for his slow-moving ways, she praises his serious, methodical decision making. She points to it as proof of his dependability.My mom told stories. I told stories. My sister told stories. Even our husbands had memories to share. We retold some of the stories Dad put on paper in his journal for us. The thing we missed most was Dad’s voice in the storytelling.Rather than telling the stories himself, he locked eyes on the teller and responded, “By golly, that hap…

A Cup of Cold Water for Thirsty Mommas - Day 1

For the first time in nearly 20 years....I. Don't. Have. A. Preschooler.  Picking out gym shoes and putting a backpack on Ginger has put me in a reflective mood.  It's obvious that she's ready to begin school .....the question is, am I? 

The truth is, it's been an awesome run.  I'm incredibly grateful that I have been able to spend these years at home focused on soaking up the first years of my kids' lives.  I have loved being the one who teaches them colors, how to take turns during board games, why it's polite to use a tissue instead of a sleeve and being able to pass on my awesome Thriller dance moves.  It was an intentional choice that Scott and I made, right at the beginning, to order our little world in such a way that I could focus on being a mom.

You see, I believed my mom.  She told me to listen to what I've heard about women being able to have it all and do it all.  She told me to dream about a career, dream about being a mom, dream about ho…