On Writing

"So...have you been writing?"

The question catches me off guard. It's been months, a year nearly, since writing has been a normal, daily thing for me. It catches me off guard like a flash of light out of the corner of your eye, lightning when you weren't even expecting rain.

It has been so long. I open my laptop every now and then, log into this blog, read a few archived posts. Sit staring a blinking cursor for a few minutes. Write a paragraph or two, fighting frustration and fear.

The fear that I've run dry, run out of things to say, stories to tell, answers to give. Maybe that's the main thing? I thought I used to know what to say. Now I'm not so sure.

Still, the questions persist. At parties, at church, in my email inbox. "I just wanted to ask...are you still writing?" I brush them off. Life got busy, you know. Kids got big. I got overwhelmed. Something had to give. But is that truly the answer?

It's not til someone poses it to me as a challenge that I let my guard down, an admonishment of sorts. The reminder that this was never just for or about me. While I ponder the thought, I realize - when you do something just for yourself, hobbies come and go. I dabble in fitness or quilting. I invest in what is enjoyable to me and leave it behind when it no longer makes me happy.

This space was never just about that. The real, raw truth is that I got selfish. I set aside something that God was using because it got uncomfortable. I shied away from hard truths and I turned my back.

On the Tuesday after Memorial Day, I log into this blog and happen to glance at the stats for the first time in forever. Blog after blog after blog boasting thousands of screen views, after I've long since abandoned this space. My heart beats faster and I scroll and scroll and scroll - evidence that it mattered. That is still does.

I stopped writing, but God didn't stop using me. Not for one day.

So I make a commitment. Just a bit each day. Easing back into it, gently. Gingerly finding my way, finding myself - again.

Holding back anxiety, clicking "post."

Feels a bit like coming home.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to future posts.  Thank you.