Every hobby, outlet, vocation, et cetera has its joys and its trials. Though I’m not sure which of those categories writing fits into for me, it certainly has its ups and downs.

 

Part of why I write this blog, why I am writing a novel (or two), why I write in a freelance capacity is that I enjoy it. I love putting words together and rearranging them until they fit just right. Another part of why I write—and I realize this is prideful at times—is that I feel that I have something to say, that my voice is worth adding to conversations on faith, motherhood, marriage, relationships, and so on.

 

Yet another reason I write is because it soothes me. The act of typing (and not handwriting, for me) my thoughts so that I can see them before me helps me reflect on what’s going on in my life. Challenging myself not to just record happenings, but to glean some sort of wisdom from them helps me to be sure I am not letting life pass me by. It’s like John said the other night when we were talking about reading effectively: highlighting as he goes along helps him to know that he’s really engaged in the material in front of him. Writing helps me to know that I’m actively involved in the life that’s happening to and around me.

 

The trouble with writing is that a thought or twelve can sneak up on you at inconvenient times. Like when you’re pregnant, but have a toddler and a freelance business—which are both incredible blessings—and have a thought pop into your head, fully composed at eleven o’clock at night, when you should have been in bed for an hour already.

 

A few weeks ago, I was having some trouble sleeping, and as I lay in bed, I found myself effortlessly drafting blog posts and new scenes for my current novel-in-progress. I considered getting up and writing them down, but I didn’t want to un-relax my body and mind more than they already were. Keeping a notebook at my bedside to write in the dark doesn’t work, because writing by hand really doesn’t satisfy me the same way. The double bummer is that once I am awake and have time to write, I can’t remember or I’m too tired to recall what it was I was going to write.

 

This is all to say that there has been a lot more going on in my head lately than has made it on to this blog. But sometimes life moves too quickly to keep up with everything. I need to remind myself that little disappointments like that are worth what I gain as an alternative—more sleep, more patience, a happier day for the little man.

 

I know I used this photo yesterday, but it’s my new favorite.