Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to stare up at the sky someday and see an enormous human form dressed in a lab coat hovering over, gawking, reaching for me with tweezers or something. Because with the extreme weather we’ve experienced in recent years I’m starting to suspect that our lives are mere experiments in living inside kitchen appliances: in the winter, go outside and you’re suddenly in a freezer. In July, go outside and you’re baking in an oven. Seriously, with this heat, you can brush a layer of butter and some spices on me and I could star in a Wile E. Coyote cartoon as a juicy chicken leg. When will autumn be here?
But besides the lake-of-firish temperatures – with which I am determined to not let morph into some sort of catastrophic burden in my attitude – July has been fun. Physical changes, a big step forward in what I know to be my purpose, and a lot of growth in many ways.
And about 57 opportunities lie in front of me, it feels like, and I have a great desire for clarity in determining what’s supposed to come next.
If there’s anything that’s been confirmed to me more in the last week since I took my big step it’s that, shockingly (not really), I’m a writer and a communicator, and living this out is in fact living out God’s ideal for me. It is the first gift I’m created to serve with, and after caring for my loved ones, this first gift must be guarded.......I can’t get trapped in choosing good ways to serve over choosing the best way to serve. So how do I come to a balance in which the best has room to bloom and sustain in the midst of a life filled with very good things that nonetheless threaten to choke out what’s best?
I can’t help but wonder if this is a test: a test to determine whether I can make the gutsy choice of saying no to some good things and risk that horrible feeling of, therefore, not being understood, and go on faith that the margin I need to protect and preserve in order for the writing to take root in will, in fact, produce the fruit I am being challenged to believe is not only possible but inevitable if I do. I cannot write without first studying and reflecting. I cannot reflect without the quiet stillness available for one thought to connect to another in a cohesive, uninterrupted intentionality. I cannot connect my thoughts without the time and space to do so. I will not have that time if I do not voraciously create and protect margin. So I need to say no to good things in order to provide for the mere outside chance that the best might be birthed in their place?
Maybe so, if that’s what I’m being led to. It is obedience that God values, not misguided busyness, however altruistic our intentions might be.
May you have the courage to walk right by what is good and seize what you know God has told you is best.