Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Semi-Resolute.

For real this time.

Okay so I’m a blog denlinquent. That probably won’t change. I could give you a laundry list of reasons why I don’t blog more consistently, not the least of which is a 6 week old snuggled in his bed right now who has captured my heart forever, but they are mostly white noise. You just have to know that the line between grace and guilt is a fine one for me so I have a total aversion to anything that stands to make me feel unnecessarily guilty. Seriously, when people start talking about their new year’s resolutions I have to stop myself from plugging my ears because even the thought of someone else trying to “better” themselves makes me feel like a loser. In the same way, blogging when I don’t aboslutely feel like it stands to make me feel lame, guilty, and like something must be wrong with me, so I just avoid it all together. I know this doesn’t sound all that healthy, but it works for me. I shut out guilt-inducing behavior with a swift kick to its rear.

But here’s the bigger truth. I write for me. My therapist asked me a few months ago what keeps me alive. The answer - writing. I know this is true. Then I have amnesia the day after I write and go back to online browsing for a few weeks until something jolts me awake. It’s like a spiritual adjustment (think chiropractor here) as I get lovingly straightened out and reminded of who I am, what matters, and how to keep my soul kicking.

Or maybe I just don’t blog more b/c I feel obligated to have pictures in each post and I’m not good at doing that in an efficient way so that annoys me. Yep, that’s it.

Moving on. I’m just going to write and post it and it probably won’t have pictures and that’s okay b/c I don’t need pictures of what I already saw during my day and I’m sure I’ll get better at posting pics faster and yada yada yada.

I am keenly aware that I am in a unique season in my life. I have a 2 year old daughter. I have a 6 week old son. We spend 90% of our time in the family room. I put babies to bed 7 times a day. I nurse the tazmanian devil (seriously, he’s the loudest nursing baby). Getting back to doing ministry outside my home is inevitably on the horizon and should be a hoot to watch me try to tackle. And if I allow my thoughts to rest for a moment on this fact I am astounded - the God who is not limited by time or circumstance, lives in this corner of my life. He wakes with me. He walks with me. He refines me with fire. And this time is like no other time that will ever be in my life. I need to capture it on paper. Dang it.

So that’s my plan. If you are reading this take a moment to throw out any expectation you have of me making this consistent or even entertaining. I will write for the sake of my own soul. For the sake of remembering. Like an Ebeneezer. Remembering this sacred time. It feels intensely mundane. But sacred it is. Sacred often masquerades as mundane. This has to be true. If it’s not then I am currently on the set of Groundhog Day and I really hated that movie.

1 comment:

  1. ah yes, but when you write for your own soul it sure does make mine breathe and smile too. bonus points.

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