I sat down to write just now and I fell asleep. True story.  I’m blaming the softly falling rain and fact that I am sitting in one place for more than 5 minutes. Somehow, it just happened.   I think I’m turning into my mother who always falls asleep during movies.

Falling asleep has nothing to do with writing. It has more to do with being a mom of four girls, one of which is two and not fond of sleeping. I love writing. Which is why I am reading/doing/considering Jeff Goins 15 day challenge. He told me to get up two hours early today and write. This did not happen. I thought, given my situation with the not fond of sleeping toddler I’d write this afternoon instead. But then the accidental nap happened. Sigh…

Writing helps me to think clearly and make sense of life that is swarming around me. Today I’ve had real thoughts like…

• I can’t wait till heaven when cancer is history.
• Wow.  I love chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.
• I wish I had hours to create art.  Wait a minute, I don’t do art.
• How many cups of coffee should I drink today?

I thought about writing on these subjects. I probably tweeted them or put the on Instagram. I don’t fancy myself a deep thinker or witty or anything. I am just a girl who writes. See, Jeff is rubbing off on me.

The best thing I can write about is my life. It isn’t glamorous. Not even a little bit.  But, I’m guessing, since you are here, you can relate to it. I could tell you how lately I’ve been reading no less than six books.  How I’ve fallen in love with Artisan Bread and how proud I am to have conquered Leviticus in three days. See, I told you, not too amazingly special.

All I can be is me. The one my 2 year old is screaming for right now.  The soft rain didn’t work too well for her. She is letting me know about it, loudly.  So, off I go to change the world one diaper at time.

P.S.  Too bad I dont’ have music on my blog.  It would be a perfect time to cue Sheila E. Long live the 80s.

After weeks of words being buried, here is where I am today.  Thank you so much for your kindness over the past few weeks.  I am feeling the love, for sure.

I bought a flower bulb on clearance at Target last January when she was studying plants. We watered and waited and danced with joy as green leaves sprouted up and roots grew down.  But the beauty fizzled as quickly as it began, and we were left with only the remnants of life.  In an act of desperation we dug a whole in the front yard and tossed the plant inside. All summer long while we swam and chalked up the sidewalk, it lay quietly under a couple of inches of sandy, dry earth. We were stunned in December when green leaves shot up from the ground unexpectedly.  Our celebration was cut short as a blast of cold air came through town and killed any signs of hope blooming.  I could tell she was more than disappointed.  Nothing is harder to learn than wait.

Last week she came running in the house and said, “Mommy, it is going to bloom.“ Sure enough, I went to see and there were two buds emerging as if to tell us, “Get ready girls, the show is about to begin.”  It should be any day now and she peeks out the window each morning to check.  “Wouldn’t it be neat if they bloom for Easter?” She says with a grin.  My heart melts because I was thinking the same thing.

Surprises burst into our lives in all sorts of ways. We had another one show up last week that we wish we could toss it in a big hole and cover with dirt.  You know the kind that begins with a phone call and ends with you wishing you could go back to the moment right before the phone rang and  life got messy. So while we wait for pathology tests and cancel plane tickets for Grandma to come, we learn hard lessons, too. We begin to think nothing good can come from something so bad, until friends show up with bread and their prayers help you breathe in and out.

I turn the porch light off before bed and catch a glimpse of our own little Easter lesson in our front yard. I am reminded that in the darkest of night, God is always working something for our good.  See, the hard road is never chosen, but once you are on it, hope blooms at the right time and place. Always.

The true writer simply shows up. Ready to do the work. - Jeff Goins, page 21 of “The Writers Manifesto”

Today I’m showing up. I’m ready to write and I’m putting down words not because I have something to say, but because as a writer, I need to.  I can’t really explain where my heart has been lately.  I tried last week and you seemed to understand.  Thank you sweet friends for offering your words for encouragement of mine.

But when words don’t come, you have to show up anyway. For a writer, that means to put down the line and to start moving fingers on a keyboard even when you are unsure of where they are going to roam.  Will they reach deep inside?  Will they scratch the surface? I don’t know.  But words, when hidden have to be found.

Showing up says, “I’m here and I’m writing and I’m not going to give up.  Writing, words, it is what I do.  It is who I am.” I’m willing to wrestle the words out, not because I have the answers, but because I need them.  I’m willing to work out the blank page because having it stare back at me simply will not work.

I used to think I wrote to encourage. And that is partly true.  I used to think I wrote because I had something to say.  That is also somewhat true.

But I’m learning, the real reason I write, is to wrestle out the message in my own heart.

Writing makes it stick.  Words on the page, scribbled by my own hand plants it deep in my heart. This is my wrestling place.  This is where I put my faith in action, give it roots, and make it mine.  This page is where my heart says yes to what God is working out in it.  So to leave it blank is not an option.  Ever.

:::

What about you?  Why do you write? How do you show up, even when you don’t feel like it? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

{linking up with my girls today}