Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Tithe Me Your Time

Okay, I admit it. The death of lappie (my laptop) has curbed my capacity to write greatly.  It's not that I don't have paper, pencil or even access to the computer, but my best work came when I could sit at the machine in the kitchen and still monitor all of life. The computer room is offset, all of life cannot be monitored from that spot, so it's my spot a lot less.  You'd think with only one home, I'd have more time, but somehow, I have less.  It explains to me why people wonder how I can manage with ten. When I had only one, I didn't have any time to myself either. So I'm sitting today, looking at a blank page that somehow has become a means of walking into the dessert of my prayer life.

It's my point in dessert of Lent when I discover what I always discover, what I keep being led out into the wasteland to find, all the ways in which I put me first.  I never liked "Dim your lights," because that would put others first.  I never wanted to be defined as "Just a mom." when that is obviously the most important job I've been given by God with respect to these people. I've wanted something apart, something for me.

But I know, you can't serve two masters and you really can't serve God if you serve yourself first.

All my writing reflects me.
All the time spent writing, is mine.

It isn't that writing is good or bad, it is how it is used, is it a witness of a faith life, or is it Pharasitical response to life? "Look at me I have ten kids, I pray, I write about praying.  Holy me."

I can't say it's either or neither, I'd say it's both and.  

Blogging is about getting people to read, so there is a component of attention getting by the nature of the format.  I like to talk.  Listening...not so good.   Writing allows me to talk without the pesky problem of listening except to the internal voice, "Does this ring true?"  

Sometimes writing takes me deeper into the vocation of wife and mother.  Sometimes, it strokes my ego.  What I don't know, is how to separate the wheat from the chaff in my writing.  So I've let them grow up together, and what is good will be harvested, and what is bad, hopefully will not burn up the internet as it is burned.  

I didn't plan for this to be the case. This is a humor blog. I liked writing humor. It's fun, it's fast, it gets a hit, people share it and it makes them smile.  It's the equivalent of a chocolate chip cookie without the calories. It is what I always intended this blog to be, but it's become something different.  (As writing often does), it's become a log both of memories, and of funny stories, and of those moments when I'm willing to bleed on the page.  Despite being the most shared and successful of pieces, I don't like bleeding on the page because it's not as easy as humor.  Bleeding requires I reveal small moments, fears, worries, pain.  Who wants to read that?  Turn on the news. You will get fears, worries, pain.  I want to be light, so I make light of those fears, worries and pain as a way of fighting. 

I also do it because if I don't, it's easier to be less happy, easier to get overwhelmed.

The biggest issue for me, is the breaking point, the moment when I don't want to serve.  It happens on Saturday when there is a mess everywhere and everyone else is playing while I'm cleaning.  It happens when I get to the five o'clock witching hour and dinner's not even an idea, it happens when we've done the bed time routine, we've done everything right and still, I'm playing which kid will get out of bed this time? after ten in the evening.   When I'm tired, when I feel I've given, when I get to the point that I'm out of wine and they're whining, and I forget the next step.  

Pray. Ask for help.   

How can I be this stupid?  Easy.  I keep thinking it's me that's running this show.  I'm responsible. I'm Mom.  Except what I have to remember is, I'm the hands in this Domestic Church, but Jesus is to be at the heart of it. Motherhood is my vocation, but I've spent twenty-two years always asking God, "Are you sure you want me doing this?" in some way, and then proposing, "Because I could do this...I'm good at this.." and picking some distraction like ohh look, a gym. I'll work out all the time, healthy and oh, I'll read while I work out or pray so it will be a double good.  No?   Oh look, a computer. I'll write for about that?"   

God in His mercy keeps firmly placing me here and saying, "Here are the people I want you to shape.  Here are the people I want you to love.  Tithe me your time Sherry."   

No comments:

Leaving a comment is a form of free tipping. But this lets me purchase diet coke and chocolate.

If you sneak my work, No Chocolate for You!