In 2016 I didn't type a single word into this blog space. Not one. I didn't share wisdom or laughter or random thoughts. I was running on empty quite a bit and nothing seemed certain or steady, so sharing felt risky. I usually sit down in front of this screen and I don't actually know what I'm going to write about until the blog post is finished and then I sit back and go, "Huh. I didn't realize that was in my head/heart." So when I suspect that what is in my head/heart is muddled and off kilter... I am prone to avoid writing altogether because I'm afraid of what I might learn.
I'm sitting here now, nearly halfway through 2017, and I am ready to start again. This space has never been a traditional "blog" to me. I don't promote it or use search engine optimization or pay a bit of attention to the stats. I think I tried to once or twice because it felt like I was "supposed to," but once I turned 40 those sorts of life rules didn't have the same claim on me as they once did. (There are benefits to aging!) Are other people reading this? I have no idea. But I know that when I take the time to write, I'm better off for it. My head is clearer. My life makes more sense. I'm grounded. How strange to be grounded in cyberspace.
So what needs to come out of my head/heart now and onto this "page?" Let's find out... I'm just as curious as you are.
I've been sick with a nasty cold for the past few days and my plans have been turned upside down. Instead of parties and trips (planned), it has been bathrobe and bed and tissues and medicine (unplanned). As I now stare down the beginning of another week and the need to return to work and a normal schedule, I'm somehow grateful for the last five days of interrupted plans.
There is nothing like an interruption to get my attention. As I plan and prepare (constantly) and expect things to go a certain way, I inadvertently stop paying close attention to the here and now. And I miss opportunities to be grateful. To be blessed. I allow striving and a heart discontent with the myriad of minor interruptions that accumulate along the way threaten my peace and my sense of purpose. I find myself restless and unsettled, but unsure as to why. <Insert a major multi-day plan-interrupter here.> I always hate major disruptions at the outset, but somewhere deep inside, I also feel relief. Does that make sense? I never want to be sick or to have an accident or crisis. Never. I actively try to avoid all of these things. And yet, these are the things (sickness, accidents, crises) that give me societal permission to stop striving. So somewhere in my soul I welcome them and heave a strange sigh of relief when they do their priority-clarifying work.
I realize that this is an unhealthy way to go through life. It sometimes takes physical illness to reveal soul sickness. In the early days of 2017, I claimed the word "SERVE" as my motto for the year. I imagined a year full of pouring myself out, unselfishly, to my family and friends. I am now reminded, almost mid-way through the year, that when a pitcher is full, it doesn't have to be turned upside down in order to pour out, only slightly tilted. The emptier I allow my spirit to become (through striving and pushing and making constant preparations), the more upside down and out of balance I feel when I try to serve... to pour out. Living - alive and awake - in the moment, holding my plans loosely, seeking the face of God daily and trusting Him with all things is filling. These practices are mine to embrace or ignore, but they are what will fill me up. And life wasn't meant to run on empty.
"...Be still (cease striving), and know that I am God..." - Psalm 46:10
Carla Ritz. Proof positive that God uses cracked pots!