Oh, hmmm,... how to begin?
I have taken a mostly-unintended hiatus from writing. Not that there haven't been things to write about—which there have—and not that I haven't had the time—which has become increasingly rare—but that I haven't quite known how.
You see, I have dedicated this blog to primarily my own story. Or, rather, how I have seen God writing his story of my life through the circumstances which he has placed me. In the past months, however, my own story has interwoven with the stories of others which I do not at this time feel privileged to tell. Unraveling the strands has simply proven too difficult as my own time and space for carefully considering what I am writing has dwindled to practically nill.
And now I feel a swell building for something which I desire to share. A story of God's mercy and grace through a painfully tender cross which he has asked me to bear. But I simply can't find the words.
Have you ever felt—physically felt—yourself growing stupid? I sit here and stare at the screen and it's as if my brain has melted, or atrophied, or... something. I don't know. I've walked away and pursued other tasks around the house, come back, and still,... nothing. There is a wet and heavy quilt muffling my thoughts and I can't budge it to save my post. Part of it is the pain, part of it is the untangling, but most of it is the wet blanket.
So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to write anyway. I'll write about the construction workers next door hammering down shingles rhythmically all day to the point where I pause if I don't hear them. I'll share that my creative slump isn't limited to writing this blog, but I am cooking meals on autopilot which means... blah. I'll confess that I haven't run in weeks and besides my jeans getting tighter (arg!) I know this is a piece of the puzzle to my writer's block. And yes, I'll say it right here: I do believe that Facebook is sucking my life away...
(Caveat: That is, besides the links to really good articles and the communication with my daughters who all live entirely too far away.)
So I hereby pledge (plan, hope, choose) to re-start my running routine, play more music when I am home alone, and severely limit my Facebook usage.
Perhaps this will draw the quilt away from my brain and allow me to think clearly again.
And, oh, the construction workers must be done for the day. Silence.