Life. Life has been insane. The last three months in general and the last three weeks in particular have been so crazy and busy. Going to KC about once a week (soon to be twice a-week as we nanny for Frances!), Alice in Wonderland play practice (performance next weekend, yikes), school (chemistry and pre-calculus/algebra stuff are both a little overwhelming right now), piano (recital beginning of May), going 3.5 hours away to visit relatives two weekends in a row, getting ready for our homeschool Formal dance (first time… that'll be interesting, to say the least), and oh, yeah, trying to have a social life while keeping writing and reading. I'm not complaining; please don't take it as that. I like busyness. Even this has been a little much for me, though! ;) Through everything, God is good. He understands. Everything.
I used to think I was easy-going, not emotional, logical, efficient, motivated, smart, graceful, that I had a good memory… All these things that I've at times put my identity in (particularly in efficiency, in that I can get things done and work hard) have, in the last few weeks, turned themselves inside out. I've been irritated and snappish. I've been emotional. I've had little motivation to get things done and when I have the time to get things done I often read instead. Right now, even writing sounds like a task, not a recreation. I have been clumsy, forgetful, and school has been tough.
I had a writer's group meeting today. It was good. I enjoyedeating cranberry scones drinking tea discussing books and writing, although, you know, it's not all positive critique! It's what I need. But it can make writing less exciting and fun, especially when I feel un-motivated as now. I am adding in a character into Arthur who is based on a friend of mine, a staff member at my youth group. It's tough, writing dialogue about a real person! It is fun, too.
Sometimes, like today, I realize how I am different. Many friends of mine have all read a similar range of books, most of which I have not. These friends also all enjoy darker things than me, have similar opinions on subjects which are different than mine. I know that dark things happen, and perhaps it is perfectly true that people need to write about those things, but other pens can cover those topics than the pen of Awdur. I like happy endings. I like beauty and light and harmony, not horror, darkness, depression. The former are what I like to read about and write about. Not saying it's necessarily wrong to read/write about dark things, but it's just not me. And sometimes I do feel it's wrong. Aren't we as Christians called to think about things that are lovely, pure, praiseworthy? Again, I know that it is impossible to never think of the bad things that happen in the world, without insulating ourselves completely from every human, but to focus on it... I don't know.
As I mused, coming home, about the meeting, and told my dearest friend and my Lord about everything (I sometimes think the Bible says not to complain because it gives us the dearer pleasure of unburdening ourselves to him), I thought to myself, that I do not need to feel shy or lesser or at all awkward when my friends have things in common that I don't understand. I am me. I am Awdur. I don't need to be exactly like all my friends. I don't need to be completely understood by them – I don't even believe that is possible. Not even my husband, I think, will understand me entirely. God, though, understands. He made Awdur. He knows me. All throughout the last five years, my growing years in our relationship, since I really began to seek him, I have doubted his love and I have struggled and I have failed. I never, though, doubted that he understood me. That he gets me. Oh, Jesus, thank you, for getting me. For knowing me. For accepting me and wanting me.
Grammar wise, concise-wise, sticking-to-the-point-I-started-with-wise, this post is poorly written. I started talking about my crazy life and ended with talking to God. Started many sentences with coordinating conjunctions, used run-ons and fragments. This is raw me. This is Awdur.
Keep on after the Lord, my friends.
I used to think I was easy-going, not emotional, logical, efficient, motivated, smart, graceful, that I had a good memory… All these things that I've at times put my identity in (particularly in efficiency, in that I can get things done and work hard) have, in the last few weeks, turned themselves inside out. I've been irritated and snappish. I've been emotional. I've had little motivation to get things done and when I have the time to get things done I often read instead. Right now, even writing sounds like a task, not a recreation. I have been clumsy, forgetful, and school has been tough.
I had a writer's group meeting today. It was good. I enjoyed
Sometimes, like today, I realize how I am different. Many friends of mine have all read a similar range of books, most of which I have not. These friends also all enjoy darker things than me, have similar opinions on subjects which are different than mine. I know that dark things happen, and perhaps it is perfectly true that people need to write about those things, but other pens can cover those topics than the pen of Awdur. I like happy endings. I like beauty and light and harmony, not horror, darkness, depression. The former are what I like to read about and write about. Not saying it's necessarily wrong to read/write about dark things, but it's just not me. And sometimes I do feel it's wrong. Aren't we as Christians called to think about things that are lovely, pure, praiseworthy? Again, I know that it is impossible to never think of the bad things that happen in the world, without insulating ourselves completely from every human, but to focus on it... I don't know.
As I mused, coming home, about the meeting, and told my dearest friend and my Lord about everything (I sometimes think the Bible says not to complain because it gives us the dearer pleasure of unburdening ourselves to him), I thought to myself, that I do not need to feel shy or lesser or at all awkward when my friends have things in common that I don't understand. I am me. I am Awdur. I don't need to be exactly like all my friends. I don't need to be completely understood by them – I don't even believe that is possible. Not even my husband, I think, will understand me entirely. God, though, understands. He made Awdur. He knows me. All throughout the last five years, my growing years in our relationship, since I really began to seek him, I have doubted his love and I have struggled and I have failed. I never, though, doubted that he understood me. That he gets me. Oh, Jesus, thank you, for getting me. For knowing me. For accepting me and wanting me.
Grammar wise, concise-wise, sticking-to-the-point-I-started-with-wise, this post is poorly written. I started talking about my crazy life and ended with talking to God. Started many sentences with coordinating conjunctions, used run-ons and fragments. This is raw me. This is Awdur.
Keep on after the Lord, my friends.
