So I'm glancing back over my blog entries, now that I've finally found a spare moment to blog, and I realize that, it has been nearly ONE WHOLE MONTH since I've posted anything.
Which shocked me, only because I can't believe I haven't updated this thing since my kid's birthday.
But also because my daughter's birthday seems like it was ages ago, yet it feels like I could not have possibly spent that much time not writing.
As a school teacher, during the summer time, I had a routine. I woke up. I read my Bible. I wrote. At least five pages. Everyday. And I ran. At least three miles, at least three times a week.
This summer, I am no longer a school teacher. I am the director of the Young Writers Summer Camps. I am a manager at the Cottage Café. I am a bride-to-be.
I am not writing on a daily basis (or, um, at all).
And running and I are in the midst of a lengthy separation, basically headed for divorce.
I can let the running go. I ran my marathon. I eat well (usually), and I get plenty of exercise at work. So I don't need to be a runner right now.
And temporarily, I suppose I've put my writing on hold (which is crazy for me, because I can't even think of myself in terms of who I am if I'm not a writer).
But the reality is, right now, I'm not writing.
What really strikes me about this situation is how sometimes, on the verge of so many new and exciting horizons, you become someone you never saw coming.
If you asked me who I was last year, I would have said: A mother. A Christian. A writer. A runner. A girl in love.
I'm still all of those things, but at the same time, some of them have slipped away from me. Of course I'm still a mother--but I'm not making home-cooked meals.
I am still a Christian--but I'm ashamed to admit that today was the first day in a couple weeks that I forced myself to find time for my Bible when I woke up. Why? Because I've been closing at the restaurant, getting home around three in the morning, to barely find a few moments with my pillow before waking up and rushing off to the university to see over everything there. And then the process repeats itself until I finally stumble into a day when I only have to work ONE JOB, and that's very exciting.
Nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, that I do is more important than my time with God. Yet somehow, I've been letting it be stolen from me, in the distractions of business, obligations, the desire to do a good job.
Nothing that I've embarked upon is something I don't want to do. It all matters, and I love it all. But I have got to say that I was truly astounded that this much time has passed this summer. And I need to remember that no matter how busy I get, no matter how many issues demand my attention:
I have got to keep my priorities straight, and I have got to stay true to who I am.
Because other wise, none of the rest of it will matter.
I saw a quote the other day that I'm taking to heart. It said: "I finally realized today that I cannot do everything. So I have decided to do as much as I can do and do it fabulously."
And that's it.
So today, I read my Bible. This is me writing.
I plan to do them both again tomorrow.
And no, I won't really see my daughter tonight, because she was asleep when I left, and she'll be asleep when I get home.
But maybe I will leave her a note or a little surprise, just to remind her, that I still love her, even in my absence.
And the wedding stuff--every time I start to stress about not having the right color flower petals, or wondering if my shoes are going to be that special, magical height in between nope-that's-taller-than-my-fiancé, and not-so-flat-that-I-have-no-added-height-and go-tripping-over-my-dress-and-rolling-down-the-aisle--
I am going to remember that none of it really matters, aside from the fact that we love each other, and I am finally marrying my best friend.
And as the day throws more at me, I will recite to myself one of my new life verses: Psalm 54:4-- "God is my help, surely the Lord will sustain me."
Without him, I'm just a hamster on a wheel. But with him?
Well, I'm doing the best I can, and I'm doing it fabulously.