I have been struggling with my inner voice and listening to the voice of God. I am impatient. I can be stubborn. That inner voice can be so loud and so angry that its all I can hear. My spirit so desires to delight myself in God but I am at work against myself. It’s like that scripture says, I do what I DON’T want to do, such as sleep in rather than get up and meet with God while my household is still sleeping.
Some days I feel like I should be laying on a couch talking to a psychiatrist about my childhood. Some days I feel like I can see forever and it’s beautiful. Then there are days where I cry out to God just to make it through the day. Perhaps that is what life is made of. I’m on a journey and I wonder if I will know when I have arrived, not at the place that ends with waking up in Heaven but the place where the light goes off and I say to myself, “I’m home. This is what I am supposed to do in life. This is what I was made for.”
May be, and I’m sure this is the point, the final destination of the journey IS my everyday life as a mother and wife and what I make of it. It’s not going to begin when my passion for writing thrusts me into being published, life doesn’t begin then, it is now.
Here is where I would crumple up my paper and throw it away and start over. It’s good to hash out my thoughts like this. Sometimes I get answers.
I write. It is who I am. I feel like it is something to hide or keep off the table, so to speak, like writing isn’t something high on the noble things to do list. There are women whose passion is being a homemaker, organization and pinching pennies and I wish I was like that. I feel BAD because I am not. I don’t wake up with a bright cheesy grin wondering which wonderful task of mopping floors or making beds should I do first and then move on to dusting wood blinds or ceiling fans.
I’m the type that thinks if I keep the fan in motion no one will see the dust bunny colony and it buys me more time to put off cleaning it until I notice a dust storm in my kitchen. That’s just me. That doesn’t bring me joy and there are women who actually love it (they are on the talk shows, I’ve seen ’em). I look at them and think, “what is wrong with them?”
Writing is what moves me. I look forward to it. I have to write almost every day, literally. I carry pen and some form of paper with me where ever I go and if I don’t have paper I just might buy a composition notebook. God made me this way. God blessed me with this talent for writing and I am going to use it for His glory. I will entertain with it. I will motivate others with it. I will use it for my voice to be heard. I have something to say.