I have not been writing lately.
Why?
I could come up with a plethora of reasons why a winter silence has gripped me - most of which have
a degree of credibility.
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| Must Sleep With Mommy |
I suppose in part it is due to the (delightful) demands of
school.
I supposed in part it is due to my wiggling and giggling
little boys who seem to want to stay up later, or the lingering ear infection
making my 2 year-old want to sleep plastered against me every night, or the way
that sometimes I need to make them more important than other things I want to
do.
I suppose in part it is due to this incredibly long, dark,
cold, cold, cold winter, and the way
its icy fingers seem to be wrapping around my heart and freezing up all of my
energy. The way that occasional bouts of depression have been a little more
than occasional this time around.
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| Endless Winter |
It could be my lack of exercise and good nutrition, the way
I am eating too much sugar and cheese, and drinking too much coffee with not
enough water.
I know a good part of it is due to the huge change we just
made, leaving the warm greenhouse of our home church and stepping out to follow
God’s call to a new church. I am still getting my bearings. I am still catching
my breath. I am still figuring out what this means. I am still celebrating and grieving.
I think the biggest part of it is just that I have been tired.
I am learning that writing requires discipline and slowness - two things which
are not easily incorporated into this season of my life. Writing requires me to
draw deeply from a well within myself; it requires me to expose myself to you,
and to God, and to myself. When I write, I always, inevitably, discover the
shocking but relieving truth that I am still full of crap and in need of a lot
of grace. Every. Single. Time.
In short, it’s a lot
of work, a lot of emotional, spiritual, introspective work.
And sometimes I just don’t feel like it. I don’t feel like
soul-searching, I don’t feel like slowing down and reflecting and expanding on
the tiny beauties and sorrows of life. I don’t feel like being stretched and
changed and unraveling the things that go on inside of me. I get incredibly, disgustingly tired of myself.
I would rather just be, just coast, just flip on the autopilot, eat a
lot of chips and cheese, watch My Name is Earl with my husband, go to bed
early, and take naps during the day. (This is probably why I liked to drink - although unfortunately it never worked out well for me. These days I stick to naps and chips and cheese.)
And sometimes that is okay – sometimes that is the right
thing to do. Sometimes God, says – hush, rest child. You need to rest your
mind, your spirit, your body. Rest. Stop struggling.
But then inevitably, I start to get the writing itch. I try to ignore it, but there it is. And so
here I am again, starting back up, doing the thing that I at once love and hate,
that gives me life as much as it sucks the life out of me. Here I am again,
saying yes, I will intentionally live in an agitated state of awareness in hopes
that I can transform my observations into words of grace to share with you.
It sounds nice but it usually feels more like giving birth or trying to cram a polar bear into a jar of mayonnaise. Not all that romantic really.
I’m tired just thinking about it.
Tonight we were stupid enough to go to Meier to “get a couple
of things.” It was a zoo. And by zoo I want you to think of "Pictures of Wal-Mart" only at Meier, and there are swarms of them everywhere, making it hilarious as well as irritating beyond belief. Two hours, one hilarious crusty old man cracking jokes in
the checkout lane, 6 Meier pony rides, one nearly-in-tears cashier, one box of fruit snacks, four chocolate muffins, and two
whiny starving little boys later, we pulled out of the packed parking lot and
headed home.
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| Hope |
As we rounded the corner by the park near our house, I
realized that it was 6:30pm and I could still see a pinkish light in the clouds
of the sky. I felt the same thing I felt earlier this week when some beams of
sunlight hit my skin for the first time in weeks.
Almost tears of joy. Almost like feeling alive.
Winter is drawing to an end, dear friends. The great thaw is
coming soon. This bitter winter will melt away as it always does, and green new
life will move in. The end is near. Aren’t you glad? I love new seasons, and the way God speaks to us in them.
Look for more from me soon. I love you all.
Amy
