On my desk sits a framed print of a quote: “There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.” Maya Angelou. Those words draw me to the keyboard often. The antithesis of that draws me today.
I woke up this morning convinced I was never going to write anything of value again. I stared at the blinking cursor for a few hours yesterday. I tried to write in my head while the kids played in the pool. I listened to music, read a good chunk of a new book, perused blogs, and woke up this morning with exactly the same thing I had yesterday…nada.
So I complained. Whispered it prayerfully. Spoke it loudly to J. Typed it silently onto this screen. And as I lay there tossing ideas around in my head for the post I’m committed to writing today, I perused my email. Mixed in with the groupon deals and the Old Navy ads was a new review of Sadie.
I open these reviews like it is Christmas….excited and with anticipation. And also like I have morning sickness, afraid of sudden movement and bracing myself for the waves of nausea that threaten to interrupt my joy. It was a sweet review. Her words were kind and for the next few minutes, I let myself relish in the fact that I might have accomplished what I set out to do.
I have to admit, this is the first time I started crying while reading a book to my children. I actually had to stop for a moment to catch my breath. The story is really touching and I believe all parents will love it, even those who don’t normally gravitate towards the princess stories. Sadie is identifiable to all little girls, from the girly girl to the tomboy. I love that she’s not afraid to be herself! Amanda Evans has created a remarkable character who definitely doesn’t need a tiara to make her special. ~From headant.com
Overwhelmed with gratitude that I was the one that got to write this story, for a few moments I am content with this thing that is setting the pace for my life right now. This book. What a gift! But the flip-side of that… is fear that it is the best thing I’ll ever do. Over and over I have described this process as the actualization of a dream, and it was a dream. But now there are more…
And what if the answer is no. I think I have grown up enough over the last year to accept…not now. But no? That is a whole new agony. I can’t tell if it’s a lack of maturity that won’t allow me to submit and surrender this idea of still more. Or is it the tenacious spirit that was knit together in a hostile womb and has gotten me here…searching for words to convey the climate of my soul. Wanting more. Always more?
So today, there are no stories to tell you. There are only questions. Is ambition the enemy of contentment? Do I have to come to a place of not wanting something, to be granted it? And if I say that this was enough…is enough…will those yet-to-be had adventures be erased from my heart with your healing power, God? And do I want to be healed from the things I might actually want enough to cheat destiny to be part of it?