On Writing
Do you ever feel lost? Maybe just a little bit?
Call it middle-age, call it motherhood, call it a first-world problem. It's likely all three. But it's where I am right now.
I live in that blessed world of "What do I want to do with my life?" Stop and think about how truly, fully blessed those of us are who have been privileged enough to ask ourselves that question. We have a lot going for us if we have time to consider how we would like to spend our time. If we have the luxury of dreaming of realistic opportunities.
Right now, in this season, I am writing my feelings. I am sitting on the (covered, screened-in) patio as it rains, drinking wine, sometimes listening to Shauna Niequist's new podcast, sometimes reading a book, and sometimes writing my feelings.
I don't know if this is necessarily what I want to "do with my life." But, Caleb is about to deploy and Navy-wife-life brings it's own challenges and responsibilities and the kids need to be driven to VBS and taken to swim lessons and we're visiting home this summer and then there's back-to-school and did you know that you have to feed kids multiple times a day? Every. Single. Day. Seriously, who wants dinner every. single. day?! You just ate like five hours ago!
So, call it middle-age, call it motherhood, call it a first-world problem. But I don't know that I am even able to have a purpose, a calling, an answer to "What do I want to do with my life?' right now.
(And, oh help me, if you want to tell me that raising kids is what I am doing with my life. I get it. I hear it. Thank you for the sentiment. I love them dearly and they are no-doubt-about-it the best things I have ever had/led/taught/invested in/been a part of. But they are not me. They are not my life. They will grow up and leave and have their own purposes and their own stories and their own lives and I will be left behind, as it should be, with more life to live and I will still need a piece of me to be there when it happens.)
And so, I write. I sneak in a few lines before the kids wake and after they go to bed and when Caleb is working and in between the approximately one-hundred-and-forty-two meals I am making in any given week.
Writing is becoming my a-ha moment. It's the way I realize what I am feeling. It leads me to the exact point that I need to focus on. Sometimes it takes a while to get there, but I almost always end up with an, "Ohhhh. So, that's what's going on" sense. It lets me work out my emotions and thoughts and get down to the heart of the matter in a way that talking doesn't (because I end up crying when I am unable to articulate it) and thinking/meditating/mindfulness/yoga can't (because...oh, shiny object!)
So, right now, in this season, I want to write my feelings. I want to sit on the patio as it rains and drink a glass of wine and listen to Shauna Niequist and read a book and write run-on sentences that sometimes seem like they may never end but bring so much clarity to my mind and soul that it's totally worth it even if they're confusing to read. I want to keep learning and discovering and loving. I want to keep up this Navy-wife role for seven more years until retirement sets in and to keep laughing with and yelling at and making meals for the kids. I want to bring home our new sweet baby and shower him/her with love and kisses and lots and lots of food. And I want to write all about it.
Maybe someday I will find a purpose. A calling. An answer. Maybe writing will lead me to it.
For now, I write.
Call it middle-age, call it motherhood, call it a first-world problem. It's likely all three. But it's where I am right now.
I live in that blessed world of "What do I want to do with my life?" Stop and think about how truly, fully blessed those of us are who have been privileged enough to ask ourselves that question. We have a lot going for us if we have time to consider how we would like to spend our time. If we have the luxury of dreaming of realistic opportunities.
Right now, in this season, I am writing my feelings. I am sitting on the (covered, screened-in) patio as it rains, drinking wine, sometimes listening to Shauna Niequist's new podcast, sometimes reading a book, and sometimes writing my feelings.
I don't know if this is necessarily what I want to "do with my life." But, Caleb is about to deploy and Navy-wife-life brings it's own challenges and responsibilities and the kids need to be driven to VBS and taken to swim lessons and we're visiting home this summer and then there's back-to-school and did you know that you have to feed kids multiple times a day? Every. Single. Day. Seriously, who wants dinner every. single. day?! You just ate like five hours ago!
So, call it middle-age, call it motherhood, call it a first-world problem. But I don't know that I am even able to have a purpose, a calling, an answer to "What do I want to do with my life?' right now.
(And, oh help me, if you want to tell me that raising kids is what I am doing with my life. I get it. I hear it. Thank you for the sentiment. I love them dearly and they are no-doubt-about-it the best things I have ever had/led/taught/invested in/been a part of. But they are not me. They are not my life. They will grow up and leave and have their own purposes and their own stories and their own lives and I will be left behind, as it should be, with more life to live and I will still need a piece of me to be there when it happens.)
And so, I write. I sneak in a few lines before the kids wake and after they go to bed and when Caleb is working and in between the approximately one-hundred-and-forty-two meals I am making in any given week.
Writing is becoming my a-ha moment. It's the way I realize what I am feeling. It leads me to the exact point that I need to focus on. Sometimes it takes a while to get there, but I almost always end up with an, "Ohhhh. So, that's what's going on" sense. It lets me work out my emotions and thoughts and get down to the heart of the matter in a way that talking doesn't (because I end up crying when I am unable to articulate it) and thinking/meditating/mindfulness/yoga can't (because...oh, shiny object!)
So, right now, in this season, I want to write my feelings. I want to sit on the patio as it rains and drink a glass of wine and listen to Shauna Niequist and read a book and write run-on sentences that sometimes seem like they may never end but bring so much clarity to my mind and soul that it's totally worth it even if they're confusing to read. I want to keep learning and discovering and loving. I want to keep up this Navy-wife role for seven more years until retirement sets in and to keep laughing with and yelling at and making meals for the kids. I want to bring home our new sweet baby and shower him/her with love and kisses and lots and lots of food. And I want to write all about it.
Maybe someday I will find a purpose. A calling. An answer. Maybe writing will lead me to it.
For now, I write.
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