There once was a blogger who loved to write
She blogged all day, she blogged all night
She shared her joy, she shared her sorrow
She had little worry about tomorrow
But she fell in love and got married
And her blogging became harried
Her stories were no longer her’s alone
The strain of being a wife she could not have known
So her blog grew quieter with each passing week,
Her writing prospects seemed so bleak
Until one day she finally said,
“Enough’s enough, or this blog will be dead.”
I’d love to write more, but the truth is that all the things I want to write about I can’t actually write about. These stories I’m living, the things I’m struggling through, the aches of my heart, they aren’t just mine anymore. They deeply and profoundly involve other people. While it is one thing for me to air my heart on the web and strive for authenticity, I have no right to force others into such spotlight. So week after week I find myself staring at a blinking cursor or not logging in at all. What is there to write? I’ve always blogged about the things closest to my heart, the things God is teaching me, but these days I can’t.
He’s not done teaching me. If I’m being honest, some days I am so mad at Him that I’m not willing to see the lessons He’s trying to impart on me.
I’m stubborn and angry and hurt and confused, but writing about it – at least in so public a setting – isn’t something I can do. I’d love to tear off the band-aids, write from the heart and let it be raw, but the story, the lesson, the pain is too wrapped up in others. I can’t seem to separate what I feel from the others involved, and I’m not willing to expose the others to such scrutiny. Just because I want to be raw, to write it all out and (try to) make sense of it all doesn’t mean I can drag others into such raw-ness with me.
So it is to the desert I go. At the blinking cursor I stare. I’m the seed the has to fall to the ground and die. From death comes life but the dying, oh the dying, it is so hard. So hard to feel disconnected, so hard to feel unable to write it out, to share it, to bring light to the darkness. It is so hard, so trying to feel so tried, so tested and yet not see the silver lining just yet. I’m staring at a tree and begging to see the forest.
He’s dragging me – kicking and screaming – to the desert. If I’m being honest, I fear the desert. I fear what He is calling me to. Am I ready? Will it hurt? Will it make me uncomfortable? Will it stretch me? Will I pass the test or fall flat on my face? I have no answers, only empty blogs, seemingly unanswered prayers and blinking cursors staring back at me.