I had a post all scribbled down and close to complete....explaining why I was calling it quits for a season.
Explaining that this novice of a writer likes to write....to be read.
I had explained in furry one late dark night last week, red-faced and embarrassed - that while I was thankful for my fist-full of faithful readers - I was also immensely discouraged by so few showing up.
I had gone to all those other journals- by all those other Mamas that not only write blogs......but books.
And I had meandered down to the comments sections - to see the many responses. And I had perused the sidebars and noticed all of the contributions and links and accolades.
And the pictures. Oh, the artful pictures these women attach to their writing....such beauty.
But me here....with no comments, no links, no matrix, no networks, no ties to awesomeness. No high resolution camera to catch moments. No money in the budget for domains and design and blog conferences. No grammar prowess. No leads that my writing was going anywhere, ever.
While it's certainly true that I had heard and groaned and grown...from spilling it all out here - And while I understood that it wasn't about the numbers and the fancy.... I had become withered.
Shoot....I'm still withered.
But right before I made closing edits and wrapped up the final post - I suddenly got the idea that maybe I should do the opposite of what I felt....and dive headlong into what I knew.
At some point years back.....I had noticed that my heart sang easy and light when words were coming forth.
Words had begun to woo me. And then the pen....it went and sent me swaying, too.
So right there.....on a new budding phenomenon called blogging - I started to jot out snippets and sayings and words and happenings.
"Kate.....you've been blogging for over...five years?!?"
Yes, yes. I have.
"And you only have four official followers?"
"And you get more hits from spam sites in Russia than you do real searching souls on English speaking ground?"
Yep, that's right.
I've basically been blogging since blogging got big - and here I am - weak and meek in the back row of it all.
And the reality of it, among other things - just hit heavy and deep last week. It just came to a point and I popped.
Deflated, down - I had decided that perhaps I had forced writing to be my thing.....simply because I didn't have any other thing I could call my own.
Perhaps I had just picked up the pen to satisfy my longing for worth. Perhaps it wasn't a gift given to me at all - but a hobby I had stumbled across as I groped for purpose.
In the midnight hours as my husband slept in the bed nearby- that's what I hashed out in my little green notebook that night. And before I turned out the lamp light and laid warm next to him - my mind was made that I would simply set it aside for a while.
I thought that maybe it would be a good test - and a good way to press in to Him about it all.
But then.....I got to the last few lines of explaining it here - and it occurred to me that the one way I really know how to press into God....is by pressing these keys. The one way I know to tap in....is to tap out.
On top of that....
I heard a preacher say once that often times.....the enemy will convince you to quit right before you reach a breakthrough.
And dang-it.... I want breakthrough.
So I'm giving it a go.
Sometimes doing the total opposite of what we feel....and relying on what we know....brings forth good, God things.
I'm praying that the next few months will sprout something new. I'm praying that as I write here in this spot.... that God's directions for me in this will clarify.
Meet me in the weaving, Lord. And if this is all a waste of my time - show me the way. But if this longing to put words to what I see and hear and learn - is from You.... if the writing can be used to really inspire and move and impact the Kingdom....
then .... let it flower.