There are days when I look at the words (or the notes) I’ve put put on the page and I’m in awe, where I literally think, “Where did this come from?” And yet it’s just as likely that by the end of the day I’ll thoroughly convinced no publisher will ever accept such drivel, and what was I ever thinking, anyway?
Some days, I know exactly what I’m going to blog about and how to start, and other days I wish I’d never started the darned thing, because it’s one more deadline I don’t need and one more demand upon me.
Some days, the demands of family and love lie lightly upon me—lift me up, even. Fill me with gratitude and a glow of fulfillment. Other days I am excruciatingly aware of every ounce that love requires me to give of myself.
It’s a beautiful thing to love your life and all the things it demands of you. Not one aspect of my life has been pushed on me by circumstances of necessity; my days are a tug of war among many beautiful, beloved factors: husband, children, words, music, faith, friendship, exercise. I am so blessed. And yet that doesn’t change the fact that each of these things is, in fact, a demand which must be weighed and measured, and that one part of life will always have to give way in favor of another.
I thank God for my life, but I also beg every day, with some desperation, for help navigating it in love.