It’s been hard to blog lately. Hard to motivate myself. Hard to feel inspired. I feel like I’ve said it all before. And I wonder if I’m not being true to my identity. In the past nine months I’ve been really focusing on fiction, and I’ve gradually been focusing less on matters of faith and more on connecting with people who read secular fiction. Obviously those two audiences are not mutually exclusive, so it took a while for me to recognize what was happening in my heart and my head.
You know that phrase, “Where your treasure is, there also your heart shall be”? In recent months I haven’t been spending as much time pondering matters of faith…and I feel unsettled. Nervous. Like something’s off-kilter, something’s missing. Like I’m forgetting something.
It’s not like I’ve been without spiritual connection. I’ve been praying. Listening to the daily Scriptures and reflections. But I haven’t been taking time to process. To sit in stillness.
A lot of people look forward to summer as a time without commitments. With the kids’ end-of-year events, May was insane, and I really did expect life would feel less crazed once school let out. But it doesn’t. In some ways, it’s worse, because everyone is home more and getting under each other’s skin. Baseball, swim, summer school, camps—it’s a rich life, but it’s very…very…crazed.
I was wise enough not to schedule heavy deadlines, but I still feel a sense of frustration, and—outside of the novel—an overpowering, scary barrenness of creativity. I’m pretty sure all I need is the to take time to sit down at the piano and focus, and the gears will grind into motion again. Most of all, what I need is to be still and quiet my mind. I know the Spirit is still there. I’m aware of it…I’m just not in touch.
I need a date night with God.