I really don’t like writing.
There I said it.
It’s not that I don’t like writing per se…maybe it’s the pressure I feel surrounding writing that I don’t like. I start to feel dread rising up from the tips of my toes through my stomach whenever I think of the writing deadlines I have for the blogs I contribute to. What can I possibly say that hasn’t been said before? I have no new insights, nothing that would make anyone think. I don’t have a profound bone in my body. All I know is I’m a desperate sinner…and I get kind of sick of telling that same story.
The discipline of writing is also hard when you’re not a very disciplined person. Which is a hard thing since there is so much writing inspiration everywhere I look. My children. Oh my word…I can’t even keep up with recording all of the crazy things they say and the wild things they do. I am loving them and my role as their mother more and more each day. I wish I could have my computer open all day and type fast enough to record everything unfolding around me…But I never do (Haley is being homeschooled and we’re sharing a computer)…and then the moment passes and it’s gone…and I forget exactly what was said or done that made me smile so big or laugh so hard and I’m so sad because I wanted to record it so that I could always remember and so others could enjoy it.
So, life is happening too fast and I am panting to keep up, let alone document it all.
The place I chose to write today has a broken AC and I am both sweating and starting to fall asleep from heat exhaustion. I just tried to put my hair up in a ponytail using my bracelet, but it broke and now there are wooden beads everywhere. I have hardly typed anything…just complaints that writing is so hard in every way. But looky here…I just wrote 326 words talking about writing, so I guess I can’t really hate it that much.
So, yes, if anyone out there even reads this pitiful blog, sorry for today’s rambling. I’m working through the discouragement.
I don’t want to hate being disciplined, and having deadlines, and I don’t want to feel insecure about not having anything to say. I want to be a voice that is vulnerable with you about my struggles and shortcomings. And perhaps…well, maybe you could relate? And maybe you won’t feel so alone? And maybe we will remember together that our weaknesses are a gift to point us to Christ? And make us boast in HIM and not ourselves? Maybe, just maybe?
So thank you God that writing has become so hard for me. Thank you that I can rely on you more and not on myself. Thank you that even though my story of sin gets old, your story of redemption is ever new.
Yes to the desire to document everything the kids say/do but having a hard enough time keeping up with the living of it all, much less documenting it! Oh, how I wish I could write it all down for posterity and for myself…when my children are grown and have moved out, sniff sniff!
I’m with you! Thank you for your transparency and know you’re not alone in the trenches!
Just living the life God gave us may be as profound as it gets on some days. Taking care of the kids, the home, the hubby. Sharing with the community what we have. Just trying our best to live and grow in Jesus Christ.
And through that daily living, a moment of reflection eases its way in, and we can’t find paper quick enough to jot down that one profound thought. Those days are sweet, and we say, “Oh, Lord, thank You for impressing that on my heart. I will share it.”
Press on, Annie. Just do whatever God brings your way each day–and that may, or may not, include writing profound revelations :).
Thanks, Sally (Sorry I’m just now seeing this). I appreciate your insight; I think I have to learn to be content with what each day gives me.