It’s amazing how much a two day conference can wear you out. I took a long nap yesterday. Plus a short nap actually. And a long nap again today. I finally feel back to normal energy levels. 

 Also: coming home from two days without your kids is hard. Reentry can be killer. We resorted to netflix. 

That being said, I had an amazing time at the Faith and Culture Writers Conference in Portland. I will most likely be sharing about it for a time from now. But for the moment, it’s just this. 

      I met a friend in real life and made some new ones. 

      I was inspired by other writers and encouraged in this craft I am only now beginning to claim as my own.

      I write. Writing is what I can do right now without further qualifications. I am a writer. 

      I had a short chat with Karen Zacharias about where I was going in my writing. Among other things, she pointed out that writing is a profession and we write whether we feel like it or not.

We write whether or not we feel like it. 

I was immediately confronted with that yesterday as I was dealing with my children whose volumes were amped to loud and my head which seemed unable to handle even the slightest bit of extra noise (i might call it a social hangover?). I did not feel like writing in the least. I did, but I didn’t.

I knew I really should feel like writing, but it was the opposite of what I had felt the last two days. Two days of feeling completely inspired and empowered met by a day of feeling down, disappointed and unable to meet my dreams. I had felt released to write and was being met again with my own insecurities. 

Reentry.

Like those days in middle school when I had a sleepover at a friends house, a day of freedom from real life, and was met by chores and the same everyday. 

 It was the same yesterday, but thanks to the sleepovers I knew what was happening: letdown. 

    I still live in the same place. 

       I still live in the same way.  

          My children have the same amount of maturity. 

             I have the same level of maturity. 

               Even after two days of learning and inspiring, I am met with my same struggles. 

The only difference is now I want, feel inspired, need, and feel led to treat my writing differently. 

                I want to get to where I need to be and to get there I know I need to write. 

             I want to figure out where I need to be and I know I need to write.

         I want to be a writer and to get there I know I need to write. 

       I want a professional outlet and I need to write. 

    I want to be a a published author and I need to write. 

Even if I don’t get paid for what I do I know I need to write. 

Because that’s what I get to do right now. Besides my mundane and everyday, I’ve been gifted with a dream to write. And I can do that now. Amidst the babies and other responsibilities, I am privileged to be here and home, supported, able to write, and have writing bring me some joy and purpose. 

Someday my life might look like more education and higher qualified letters behind my name. Someday I might have a mainstream job and make money that is visible as money earned of simply money saved. Someday I mught have a more known job and accomplishments to list. But right now I get to be faithful where I am in the little things and big. 

I know right here and now is where I need to be 

      mothering my little ones 

           washing dishes 

                making meals 

                     folding endless laundry. 

Inspired and uninspired, this is what I do. And writing will join the list as something I need to be faithful in. I can write right now.  And I can learn to do it well along the way. Same as my other jobs. Because to write well I have to do the work. 

 So I’m throwing off the doubts and saying “be gone!” to the things that keep me from living full and called and brave. 

I will do the work.

I will recognize the things thrown in my way as obstacles to be surmounted instead of signs against my own ability, calling or status as a writer. It will probably just get harder as I keep living into the brave instead of retreating to the safety of small living. 

Because that is how it is when we stretch to bigger things and speak of a bigger God. 

The world fights back. 

But the world’s not in charge of me. 

 —– 

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