A Full Plate

When I hear the same phrase from multiple people, I pay attention, or at least try. The words, "She has a full plate." have been dropped recently and that got me to thinking about the fullness. Nine children and a house and writing and all the relationships I should strengthen, nurture and establish did feel overwhelming. Virtually everything I look at could use more presence than I sometimes can give. The fullness of life and of what life demands or should have, saturated my brain and the whole thing felt like too much.

The whirlpool of tasks needed to organize my home would trump reading, would trump playing, would trump writing, would trump physical and psychological and emotional and spiritual maintenance of everyone. The whole of the world with all of its unloving demands, the tyranny of time and tasks, threatened to suck all the joy out of living and leave me paralyzed where nothing gets done and no one gets nourished.

Now I confess I want to write. I want sometimes to write so much it aches. There are countless rabbit holes this Alice wants to fall down and explore on a daily basis. They all begin with following the white rabbit that is real. They end with me typing on a computer, creating just a bunch of cards that get lost in the breeze and have an odd uncirculated permanence. They will live forever, but be read and remembered by only a few.

But the lives that are here, deserve more than my down time from writing, and more than when I feel inspired by motherhood or the spirit to give my all to them. They need me to put on the joyful mask and parent whether I like it or not, whether I wish at the moment or not. They need me to love mothering so much it aches when I'm not. I have served two masters, and that is never good.

So effective immediately, and with some sadness but a full heart and plate besides, I'm suspending my blog. Sherry is this necessary? Trust me, it is. I check regularly to see if someone has posted. I check regularly to see how many visits have come. I post more often to try and get traction. I know this is not what I'm supposed to do with my time, only what I want.

What I want is almost always not what is good for me or anyone else. What God wants matters. What God wants is for me to accept that this gift of words should not be used as a shield or escape from parenting or living or anything else, and that I need to model for my children the moderation in habits that are everyday, that I want them to embrace themselves. It's a kick to write and to be read. It's even addicting. So I have to make this promise to myself. I also promise not to let that gift fester, but gestate and develop and be used in other forms and formats, just not ones that consume all my mind, energies and time.

I'd let you know how I'm doing with it but that would be cheating. I'll keep a journal by my bed so the writing I do is on my time only.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for following.

You've been great.