Write

Leaning into the table, I reached out my arms. My palms weighed their growing fingers, still damp from brief contact with running water, until the word, Amen.    

"God talks to us all the time," E started knowledgeably, spearing his first piece of pasta.  "He tells us stuff to do.  Sometimes he talks really quietly though."

"Yeah, reeeeaaaally quietly," W agreed, stretching his mouth to fit the word.

I cleared my thoughts of my own to-do list, that constant ticker running through the background of my mind, and focused on my sons and what they would teach me.   

"But if you don't listen to Him, He will keep telling you until you do it," he continued.

"Yep," W nodded.

"He tells kids stuff and He also tells mommies and daddies stuff.  He tells daddies to go to work." This, a nod to my husband's empty chair.  "And He tells mommies a whole lot of stuff to do.  A whole lot."

And that He does.  

It's been a long time.  (Again.)  But that need to

Write.

Capture this moment.

Tell this story.

is gaining strength now that my older boys are back in school.

I'm not the only one returning to writing this fall.  My friend, Leia, recently wrote about her new beginning: Pursuing writing as a viable career.  Leia and I met seven years ago, back when our husbands flew together, but didn't grow closer until we were geographically separated and began reading each other's writing.  Not that she's lacking for cheerleaders, but I like to think I am one of the people in her life that encourages her write more.  Write better.  She certainly does that for me.

Since her boys started school, she's using her two free mornings to write.  No excuses.  No distractions.

Whereas reading a Facebook post detailing the actions of a high school acquaintance's cat seems of utmost importance during my writing time, for those two and a half hours, she's just writing.

This is her season.

I am in awe.

And maybe slightly jealous.

Because I find myself doubting.  Is this what God is telling me to do?  Is this my writing season?

A big part of me wants it to be.

But if I'm honest, I'd have to say, no.  It's not.

I'm not the sort of writer that can pound out pages of amazing story line, character development, or dialogue.  Writing is a painfully slow process for me.  Carefully weaving words, only to delete half of them.  (I understand from Anne Lamott, that's part of the walk, but it would be nice to be a little quicker about it.)

Between raising three little boys and focusing on a marriage that I plan to stand for our entire lives, I don't have much time these days to follow my personal dreams.  And when I throw my interest in photography and the Montessori school and (paradoxically) homeschooling into the mix?  Well, I end up feeling like a college freshman unable to pick a major.

So what is God telling me to do?

When I listen carefully, I hear the four things I've wanted to do all my life.

Mother.  Write.  Teach.  Create.

Of course, being me, my goal is to be perfect at each of them, but I know better than to believe that's what God wants. Without flaws or discomfort, there is no learning.  No growth. And let me be the first to tell you, there is a lot of growth going on over here.  

I think what God is telling me to do, is to work on that balance between the four. It's not about which seeds to plant and which to put away for another season, but instead, how to organize my garden.  Yes, my family requires the majority of my time and energy, but He put that seed in my heart to write.  It's up to me (although I'll gladly accept help) to figure out how to make space for it.

So it's not my season to work toward being a published writer.  I can accept that. But until it is, I'm going to cultivate that little square of my own.  And write.

Self-Portrait