Writer (5 minute Friday)
Writer. I have trouble attaching that moniker to myself. I suppose I might if I could somehow devote regular time to writing, but I can’t seem to make that happen in this season of my life. And then I read about how, if you have a story to tell (and doesn’t everyone really?), and you write it/tweet it/journal it, you are a writer indeed. There are so many things I want to form sentences around…how much I wish I had my 9 year old daughter to take to The Wizard of Oz play…how I sometimes worry so about things over which I have no control… how my heart wants to explode every time I think about how our sweet baby Caroline arrived… how I hate how depression is discussed sometimes among Christians…how I wish I could see the future but then thank Jesus I really can’t.
I remind myself that the time may come, one seemingly far away day, that I will be able to devote more time and energy to transferring my whirling thoughts to print. Of course, by then I may not have enough sanity left to form a coherent sentence. Until then, I rest in knowing that what I can manage to do is enough.