Dead Mums and Stuff

“I miss waking up to you writing.”

It felt like a balm and a dagger.

He said it pre-dawn, as he sat down on our bed to watch his Mom here emerge for the day.

He used to be my everyday cock crow, my kid that woke up in the wee hours excited to feed birds, and listen to the wind in the trees, and draw things. I’d have to get up at 5 something to squeeze in writing time before he started opening screen doors and sketch boxes.

He only wakes up that early on Saturdays and Sundays now. My tap on the shoulder or his corner alarm clock have to get him going all the others.

I’ve asked him about it. I’ve shown him that even though he has school during the day, he can still rise early and do the things he loves before leaving.

He shakes his head, and looks at the floor, and says he doesn’t enjoy doing those things if he knows the rest of the day holds classrooms, walls, closed windows.

He misses me writing. And I miss him waking.

I still rise at 5 something these days but it’s so that I can hustle around the house just to leave it.

I know, that’s a part of a normal, good, vibrant life for most people. It actually has bothered me that it doesn’t feel normal and good and vibrant for mine. Why am I different? I’ve been asking that question for 35 years.

But the writing feels right. That I know.

The noticing, and the creating, and the wandering of my oldest feels right too.

So we’ll see.

I just spent a frenzied half hour throwing laundry in the washer, and cleaning out the audaciously messy car, and picking up trash in bedrooms, and vacuuming, and putting away the groceries.

Graces. They’re all graces. I know it to be true. And I’m sincerely grateful for the hearts thrumming in my home, and the abundance of grocery stores in my neighborhood, and the means to purchase from them and so on. But gosh, if all I ever do is pour and tidy and teach and work and list and scrub and pick up and tend – I will wilt and wither.

Up until recently I felt bad about wanting to just sit and admire what’s beautiful. I felt bad about wanting to read rather than chat. I felt bad about not being able to steadily live a 9-5 life like everyone else. I felt bad about wanting to create, and weave words together, and imagine. I felt bad about being me.

But then at the guidance of a few wise teachers I know, I started deep diving into my personality type. (Enneagram 4, if you’re curious.) And I began to understand that as it so happens…

I was fashioned this way!

Imagine me here wide-eyed and smiling but weeping.

It doesn’t mean that I can abandon things or people I’ve committed to, or that I can live irresponsibly, or that I can just jump ship – but it does mean that I have to make some changes, that I have to rely on others and their giftings, that I have to lay some good things down to be able to pick some great things up.

I’ve spent so much of my life feeling bad for who I was and who I wasn’t. Now I just feel like I’m winning when I’m being redeemed me.

Ah, there’s so much rest in that.

I walked around my home a few weekends ago, and noted all the things I love that I have wholly neglected.

My mums were dead. My cookie jars were empty. My rooms were undecorated. My ministry was non-existent. My blog was dormant. My books were uncracked. My body was weak. And my heart was even weaker.

And that’s because things die and empty when we aren’t our unique selves.

We wane when we try to function outside of our callings.

Sometimes I feel like God lets us enter into those things though – to for certain show us that we don’t want those things after all. Sometimes we have to actually live and experience them, to know we really don’t want them in the end.

It isn’t failing or flaking to recognize when something doesn’t fit. It just means you hopped in the fire and graciously realized you’d rather not stand that kind of heat. It’s good to have done it. Otherwise, we’d always be wondering what would have happened if we hadn’t have attempted it.

So if you find yourself not being yourself, ask God who you are. Research a bit. Don’t stay stuck in it, but do look inward for a stint so that you can bless the world with what’s true in you.

I plan to adjust some things for the better here soon. So hopefully, I can frequent my writing chair a little more often again. And maybe even venture into some newer and riskier things with it. I’d like that.

Enjoy your week, friends. Hugs and love to you each.

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