I am trying to be disciplined about writing. I don't want my few precious hours to really think, to write without interruption to get eaten up by errands and Facebook. But then there are mornings like today when I don't feel good, mornings when I wake up feeling hungover even though I had nothing to drink.
It is these mornings that I think will determine if this writing thing is a passing hobby or something real. Not because it is a reflection of my talent or lack there of, but because as Albus Dumbledore says, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." (J.K. Rowling)
I know my identity in Christ. I know I am a child of God. I am endowed with talents and gifts, interests and passions, that make me unique with something to offer the world. My work has meaning but only if I actually do the work. All the talents, all the ideas, all the education, all the grace in the world means nothing if I choose to do nothing with it.
I have work to do. I was made with a purpose, we all were. It is easy as a woman living in my part of the world, my part of the country, to find work. It is easy to find things to keep busy. And while I believe that Christians share a purpose, to love God and to love our neighbors, how we do that will look quite different. Our work, how we spend our time, will be different.
Does my day, does my work, does my love please God?
That is the question I am asking now.
And so I choose to sit and write. Not because I have nothing else to do. Not because my work is necessary. God does not need my words. I choose to sit and write because the process, the writing, is the work I feel called to in this season of my life.
God is pleased when I show up.
When I show up the real work can begin.
He can work in me.