So I’ve been writing in here for three days. Not a lot. But still. Three days. I’ve been struggling with what my words are supposed to mean. Why has God given me this burden on my heart to write, but at the same time, made it so difficult.
So I decided to spend just 30 minutes every day writing. I actually didn’t get to do it yesterday because Sean was home “sick.” And today, when I went to open this document, it was gone. Labels for the church retreat were here instead. I cannot find a backup or saved file. Three days of thinking and praying and writing are gone. I know that each day I’d written at least 600 words…I think I was actually up to 3000.
I’ve changed my preferences again so things auto save and backup and write to where ever the muses deem it necessary. My stomach is sick. Okay, most of what I wrote was random, ramblings of a middle aged housewife, but they were MY random ramblings.
My mom doesn’t understand why I don’t remember everything I wrote. Hell, I barely remember what I did yesterday. And while I do remember the general gist of what I wrote. I cannot remember the moments, the prayers, the ramblings, the very nuggets of words that came together in such a perfect way. Not all the words came together elegantly…in fact, most of them didn’t. It’s like that for a writer. But that’s the life of a writer. Writing mostly crap, hating most of what you write, trashing most of what you write, all for those few nuggets. And a few nuggets strung together become a thing of beauty. A rare gem. That moment when everything else other than those nuggets are meaningless. That is what I’ve lost.
Will there be more. Yes. Will it contain new nuggets. Damn tootin. But not the same ones. They are gone and to dwell on them is meaningless. It will only prevent me from moving forward. So where does it leave me? It leaves me at 2:20 on Thursday, February 12, 2009. Elliott is asleep for the moment and the kids will be home around 4:00. If I get another half-hour from Ellie it will be a little gift in and of itself.
I know that one of the things I was writing/rambling about was what my pastor said on Sunday. About witnessing and evangelizing to people. I cannot imaging speaking to people—well, I take that back. I DO think I could stand in front of a huge crowd and speak about my faith—but one on one? No way. As I like to tease, it’s not my gift.
And then I realized, I was save by a woman who never spoke a word to me. She’s actually in prison for murder. But she wrote a book that let me to Jesus!! Is that my gift?
She’s crying. And this afternoon, Erin has a play date. My time is up.