Cleaning the Nest…

Kitchen Scale

Hey y’all!  Welcome to my new nest!  I know.  It’s weird.  But it’s time.  It’s PAST time.

For several years, we’ve been waiting to change internet addresses because I wanted all my content from the previous blog moved over.

All nine years of it.

Y’all. Some of that is absolute trash.  Probably most of it.  Regardless though, it was my trash.  All mine.  And it’s hard to let go of things we create.  Even trash.

Then this year came around.  A new start.  And it feels new in oh so many ways.  The new job for my husband, which has very literally revolutionized our little life.  The latest new house in our latest new neighborhood with our latest new neighbors.  New schools for the kids.  One Little out of private school, bravely navigating the world of public school.

And then there’s me.

2016 was a mess.  And a rest.  And more mess.

At the beginning of the year, my heart dreamed of writing.  Like, as my job.  I joined and participated and prepared.  In March, the unexpected and unbelievable happened when my daughter’s namesake died suddenly and tragically.  The post I wrote for him made its way around my little world, with almost 40,000 views.  Somehow, I even found myself on a local news broadcast telling the story.

Y’all.  I was on the TV.

Sweet mercy.

The day of the funeral people I had not seen and who should have, by all reasonable logic, completely forgotten me were hugging my neck and calling me by name.  I’m not really sure WEIRD covers it but that’s how I felt.  Weird.

Not only did I find myself mourning the loss of a man I deeply respected and genuinely never imaged the world without, but I also realized the attention from my post was unnerving for me.

In a year I began dreaming of embracing and expanding myself as a writer, it had only taken two months for me to rethink the entire gig.

Let me be clear.  The attention had nothing to do with me and everything to do with an amazing man and his life.

But it was a glimpse.

The next few months were filled with grieving and feeling shaken.  The imaginable had happened.  A great man was gone.  And someone other than my mother had read, and liked, something I had written.  The world felt off kilter.

I felt off kilter.

Sometime in June, our pastor asked us one of those darn annoying questions.  What does God want you to give up?  Of course, we all know it can be something good or bad or even a random thing you’d never considered.  And so I asked God.  Because I genuinely thought He was gonna go with running or thrifting or crafting.

But no.

He asked me to lay down my dream of writing.

And after the off kilter-ing of the spring, I was willing.

My Father knew that, of course.  He knew my weary heart.  He knew I needed rest from the dream.  So He asked and I graciously and completely laid the dream, the book, the speaking down at His throne.

He also knew what was about to come our way.

A new job and another move.  The second in a year.

Such a good thing.  A life-altering thing.  But a hard thing too.

Because the one thing I feel I don’t really need is more practice on packing boxes.

I’m good.

So we moved.  And I set up house.  The kids got settled in their new schools.  We met neighbors.  Started looking for a new church home.  Life simply moved on.

Then this December, I felt that gentle whisper.

I knew I could commit to writing again.  Not in the same way or with the same dream, but the feeling I’ve had all my life to process and share and put my thoughts on paper, it was back.  As I leaned into that feeling, a new dream bubbled up and that need to move all of my previous words into the new space, it was gone.

So I started writing again.

It’s not the same topic I’ve been dreaming of writing for the past several years.  Not even close.  But it might just be the one area where God has transformed me the most.  And it feels so sweet to work through it.

Last year, my writing goal included a post a day plus working on a book proposal and networking through a fabulous writer’s group I had joined.

This year, my writing goal is simply to write when I feel led.  To not over think it.  To let my words return to being a love letter to my Savior instead of being a marketing tool created for an agent.  Leave the words already written behind.

Praying, this year, God will be glorified.  Because I cannot handle it.  At the end of anything I write, I pray the name you remember, the person you want to get to know more about, the person you seek out for a hug, that will be Jesus.

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