My first piece of fiction has problems. I’ll be gone for twelve hours a day at my new job. Holiday parties have me feeling like I ran a marathon.
My mind is jumbled. I can’t figure out whether I feel like crying, I am excited, or I need to go for a run. Should I even write? No one even likes reading. Maybe I should just keep the house cleaner and make dinner more. Maybe my writing isn’t worth anything.
But then I write. My eyes start to water as I type. The chaos in my head comes into focus, and I release my mind like a cage of birds.
It’s been almost a week since I wrote last. I forgot how therapeutic it is. Who knows if my writing is worth anything. Currently, I feel like I’m writing a journal entry that you’re probably bored reading.
But I know my husband will be happy I’m in a better mood when he gets home. I know I can’t internalize how amazing God is to me without writing it down. I know the Christmas tree looks prettier when I’ve written down my fears about Christmas. I know goodbyes at work this week and starting a new job seem more manageable when I’m at peace.
There’s always something that we want to do badly but wonder if it’s just a waste of time. Wouldn’t I be a better Christian if I was out evangelizing or helping people?
I’m not sure. But I know God made me to write, and I’ve been fighting it for years because it didn’t fit my logic. I mean how many aspirations are more ridiculous than being an author?
But I never really realized God wanted me to be happy until I started writing. I mean I knew it in my head.
Dad always said, “God will make you happier than you ever imagined.” I was just focused on trying to be good. I figured God would make me happy even though sometimes it was really hard to be good.
Writing seemed too selfish. I like it, but it doesn’t benefit anyone else. Wouldn’t my husband rather I clean and make dinner? But Matt’s attitude has showed me God’s heart. He would honestly rather do the dishes so he can see me happy writing.
That’s crazy. What benefit is it to Matt? Mostly it’s just a chore—I make him read this junk.
Matt says seeing me passionate about something makes him fall more in love with me. I can barely understand him saying that about me, but it’s really true about everyone. Who doesn’t love an inspired person?
Excited, passionate, inspired, I can handle the mundane, enjoy life, and be more enjoyable. Writing fills me up and makes me a better person. When I stopped running from God’s intent, I finally felt God’s pleasure. God really wants me to be happy.