Blowing Off the Dust

As I sit here wondering how to start this entry, I hear the lyrics "You can start over again" repeating in the background. Seems apropos.

When I was in college and wondering what to do with my life, the deep in me wanted to write. But after my parents talked me out of a career in acting (hindsight shouts, "Thank goodness!!"), the increasingly practical part of me decided it wasn't wise. Plus, everyone's a writer. The girl across the street, my dad's best friend's daughter, all of those smartie-pants, ever referencing the vague, poet-types in my lit classes. Who was I to write? And anyway, hasn't it all been said already?

So, I stuffed it down, moved into the shallow end, began to write about the day-to-day, then eventually quit my blog. And life happened. I got a job, quit a job, got a new job, got a husband, a house, a dog, deployments, baby, another baby, and a whole lot of tiny people's bodily fluids to clean up.

I didn't even have time to shower more than 3 times a week. Why would I even consider these keys?
Then Lent happened. And while I've never practiced it before, I missed the regular, purposed fasts at our church in Augusta and decided to partake in the soul clearing.

It started so simply:  Give up screens during naptime; replace them with Jesus.

And what I found is that there *is* room in my life for Him. For peace. For rest. And for the cultivation of my soul. For reading, journaling, writing... and even sometimes vacuuming.

I've been trying to listen to the wisdom of the women in my world, who tell me what it's like to look back on these years. Who know what's really important. Who would tell me to stop running around the house like a maniac trying to Clean All The Things during the eye of the storm that we call naptime. Who would tell me to just REST. And enjoy my life. Enjoy Jesus. Enjoy the sun pouring in the windows.

(Ann Voskamps, "Only amateurs hurry" keeps coming to mind.)

So, I have been. And as cheeseball as it is, I feel my heart... blooming. And I find myself looking at the world differently. The way I used to, when everything was a metaphor and a lesson from God. When my ordinary moments turned parable for something greater, about Someone greater.

And it makes me want to write. Not for other people to read it, but just to write, to chronicle this journey He has me on, so that I'll remember it happened. So that I remember that when the boys are older and they help me pull weeds that I want to share with them what Jesus said about the seeds in soil. So that I'll have clarity, focus, purpose. So that I don't waste my life in shallow ground.

As the pollen count tops 9300 this week, I'm blowing the dust off these keys and writing. Making it a point to write. For me. For Him.