Night Writing

I'm trying to blog at night then post it in the day.

 I'm not sure it's working for me.  I type now and lack that usual sense of place.  That rush I'd get from taking my time out during the day, away from the kids, aiming for the higher.

But it seems I've been too busy and things that shouldn't be are falling by the wayside.  So, I'm trying this night time writing.

The kids should have been in bed forty minutes ago.  My husband should have been home two hours ago.

Instead, the kids are frosting cupcakes with my dad overseeing.  I passed it off so I could come here.

So maybe this isn't working either.

By this time of day my brain is getting mushy.  I'm ready for silence and relaxation.  I can't tap rightly into that area I need to be in for writing.

But...there is bending with life.  Rearranging.  Trials.  So, we shall see what happens.

Communal Global

Time

There never seems to be enough time in the day.

But this I know- there are hours in the morning which I could utilize and I don't.   Because I'm sleeping.

I'm tired.  Very tired.  And I let the illness excuse me from the morning opportunity which I know is a fruitful time for me.

So, I sleep in and I take a couple of cups of coffee to get going and by the time we start our day, it is late.  Later than I'd like.

And I've had whiles when I've woken early, before the kids; and fatigued or not, my day goes better.  Yawning smiles.  Because the quiet time, the prayer, has happened deliberately.  The discipline.  And I'm built up for what may come in any given day.

And this is not a legalistic thing.  Because I don't feel condemnation.  God can work with me wherever I am and if I give Him these afternoon hours while I blog, I'm sure He's fine with that.  But I know in my heart, that mornings for us are better.  I've even asked Him in times past to waken me in the morning, early.  And He did!  For about a week.  And I kept going back to sleep.  That's okay.  Rest, He gives me, too.

But when I come back to the thought, that there's not enough time in the day for all that must be done, the reminder of the morning comes.

Naturally, I am not the best with time management.  I don't need to be.  But if I start my day off on the right foot, chances are, I'll hear His voice more clearly through the day, be guided more easily into right priorities.

Maybe soon, you'll find me here, early.


And counting:
paths and journeys
God whenever
Here
cuddly dogs
boy on the trampoline
September

Submitting at The Wellspring, Katie Lloyd Photography and

How Many Times

There are days when words don't roll in easy.  Not because of lack.  No, the words whisk inside my brain, they just don't always make much sense when strung together. I cannot knead them into smooth form. There is no outline.

And, too, I get to a place every now and then, when I'm just sick and tired of my words.  Sick and tired of a lot of things.  My words, my moods, my surroundings.  And then I figure out that it's me I'm sick of.

Sometimes, the meeting of God means the ushering in of tears.  And I thought I was ready for it all but it's hard, healing.  I've cried more in the last week than I have in the last year.  These words written are what I fear.  Which bring apprehension and sometimes self-condemnation, even self-hatred. That fear I can taste that I'm opening myself up to sympathy I don't want.  Because it touches such a sore spot for me, letting you in.  To exhibit any weakness, to show raw truth.  But if I don't, then what?  I only postpone the pain.  So, I come here and I choose courage and I share because I'm asked to and then I can more easily let it alone.

Yesterday, I skipped church.  I shouldn't have.  I wanted to isolate and be sad, I guess.  I wasn't choosing joy.  And this morning I had a dreaded doctor's visit.  Not dreaded because of any news or tests, just a routine visit to get set up with a doctor now that we've moved.  I didn't want to go.  I'm sick of my sickness.  I'm done with it.

What does this mean?  That I've allowed God to heal me or that I've decided to not let it define me?  No, unfortunately.  It means I've stopped taking my medication.  It means I was tempted to sabotage my appointment by not registering online. It means I listened to the doctor outwardly but inside was really hating him because it's somehow his fault that I have to be there.  And he listed about a million things he wants me to do.  And I said okay.  But I don't feel okay with it.  I'm angry.  I'm angry that I have a disease that means I have to do anything.  And when those stupid tears came in the sterile office and then we had to have the dreaded conversation about anti-depressants I felt like dying.  Wow, dramatic much?

Okay.  My ten second ( I know it was much longer than that) pity party time is up.

So, I came home and I was still mad.  And I had so wanted today to be okay.  I wanted yesterday's pain to be done and over and yet here I was in my tomorrow, still feeling ick.  And then I read Ann Voskamp's blog like I usually do.  And it was about Sara, whose heart I only last week discovered.  And she chose joy.  And, I, who am mostly fine, too often do not.  I need to.  How many times do I have to be reminded?

So then, now I've had my little rant.  Yeah, life's not fair.  But what did I read the other day?  It's not fair for all of us therefore that makes it fair for all of us.

So, I pray and I write and when sick of myself and my words, I listen to what God is trying to tell me.  I accept His words because they are gentle.


Counting the gifts:

His gentle words,
poetry
doctors
healing
tears
hearing what I need to when I need to

Submitting at

a holy experience
macro monday
the creative exchange

Today - Play

Today I am not inclined toward handstands.... but maybe I need to be.

Today the kids want to play.  I say, "It's Monday, there's stuff to do."

But what if I gave up stressing? Gave up the worry, just right now and said, "It's okay that you all have built a fort in the living room, that there's a million barbies everywhere, that you want yet more toys out...so what,  let's just play."

What if these were my words, my thoughts for today rather than the financial worries, the schoolwork tensions.

 Would it be so unacceptable if today I remembered to be grateful that my kids are still young enough to play and that this time is short. What if I just changed perspective?

Grateful today for:


living room forts
cartwheels on carpet
baby sentences
the cooling weather
a job in today's economy
prayer
casting my cares on Him

On the Cusp

It's the surprise of these threatening tears that prophesies a breakthrough, beautiful and painful.

Submission for Write on Wednesdays and The Creative Exchange
So much recently has shown me that I am just on the cusp.  That there is so much further to go but I have to be willing to look back at my past and face it. Shed light to see light.  And in my silence, God challenges me to let the tears run, but I hold them back, thinking this strength. But this is an illusion of strength.  I am weak.  I am afraid to look where He gently turns my eyes.  I hear Him challenging me on my concept of forgiveness.  And when it's close enough to grasp, I recoil.  "What will happen to my pain, if I choose to forgive?"  He answers that He knows, He sees, He understands, is that enough?  
Submission at