For years now some of you have been telling me to write. Write a blog. Write a book. All I can seem to cough up are status updates. When I sit down and stare at a featureless plane of white my mind goes blank. All those thoughts and words go AWOL, leaving with a blank stare and a slack jaw. Sigh.
I want to write. I really do. But I don't know WHAT to write. And I get caught up in the technicalities and afraid my punctuation will suck and my brighter friends will shun me as trailer trash and then I get interrupted and those of you my age know that once a thought is interrupted, all is lost. Adios! Arrivederci, baby!
But I DO want to write. I find words bubbling up out of me. Words I've been afraid to share before. Before. But not any more. This year has chewed me up and spit me out. Perhaps a bit like a tall pine (or more like a gnarly mutt tree) that has been chewed up and spit out and mixed in and passed through the roller. A piece of paper. Hungering for words.
So here is where I ask you, my friends. What do I write about? You, who have been saying 'Write! Write! You must write!” What do you want to hear?
Do you want to hear about this year? The year my ovaries sputtered, collapsed and died. The year my hopes of being a great or even good enough mother shattered into a million pieces. The year I lost any sense of ever, EVER “doing it right.” The year that God came to me in a of a heap of tears jigsaw puzzle pieces and poured his grace over my weary and war torn soul.
Do you want to hear about parenthood. The things I did right (a rather short list, to be sure)? And wrong? And the wonderful adventures that ensue when a clueless woman with no managerial skills whatsoever rapid fire pops out four babies and spends the next 20 years or so looking around for their mother only to discover that she is it?
Do you want stories of our bad cars? Old houses? Real estate adventures (as long as I wouldn't get sued)? Family pets and their cohorts (who knew hamsters procreated like THAT?)
Are you prepared for me to be earthy or perhaps brutally honest?
Do you want me to write a blog or just a note on Facebook.
Give me your input. Ask me questions. If I write it will you read it?
I want to write. I really do. But I don't know WHAT to write. And I get caught up in the technicalities and afraid my punctuation will suck and my brighter friends will shun me as trailer trash and then I get interrupted and those of you my age know that once a thought is interrupted, all is lost. Adios! Arrivederci, baby!
But I DO want to write. I find words bubbling up out of me. Words I've been afraid to share before. Before. But not any more. This year has chewed me up and spit me out. Perhaps a bit like a tall pine (or more like a gnarly mutt tree) that has been chewed up and spit out and mixed in and passed through the roller. A piece of paper. Hungering for words.
So here is where I ask you, my friends. What do I write about? You, who have been saying 'Write! Write! You must write!” What do you want to hear?
Do you want to hear about this year? The year my ovaries sputtered, collapsed and died. The year my hopes of being a great or even good enough mother shattered into a million pieces. The year I lost any sense of ever, EVER “doing it right.” The year that God came to me in a of a heap of tears jigsaw puzzle pieces and poured his grace over my weary and war torn soul.
Do you want to hear about parenthood. The things I did right (a rather short list, to be sure)? And wrong? And the wonderful adventures that ensue when a clueless woman with no managerial skills whatsoever rapid fire pops out four babies and spends the next 20 years or so looking around for their mother only to discover that she is it?
Do you want stories of our bad cars? Old houses? Real estate adventures (as long as I wouldn't get sued)? Family pets and their cohorts (who knew hamsters procreated like THAT?)
Are you prepared for me to be earthy or perhaps brutally honest?
Do you want me to write a blog or just a note on Facebook.
Give me your input. Ask me questions. If I write it will you read it?
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