Saturday, Dec. 12
I almost didn't go to a Christmas production at Crossroads Church because everyone had backed out. I took a nap and tried to come up with excuses not to go. For some reason, maybe because I knew it would be fabulous, I couldn't and decided to just go.
On the way there, I prayed that I would find someone I knew who I could sit with. I almost didn't believe it would happen. I walked up and down the aisles looking for someone I knew. I saw one lady but there was no where to sit where she was. So I continued down the aisle until I thought I heard someone call my name. I turned around and saw a lady I knew, Kristy. She asked if I had a seat. Of course, I said I did't. The thing was, there were only three seats and they expected three more people to come. I didn't want to take someone else's seat, but she insisted that we could all squeeze in.
So I had to walk around to the other side to get in. I didn't even see the woman sitting beside Kristy. Lo and behold, it was my friend Kim whom I had been trying to get ahold of for weeks. Only two of the other people came too, so we didn't have to squeeze in. And they were good seats, five rows back in the center.
Kim and I had so much fun. We were talking and making each other laugh. Her phone had erased my message when I called her a few weeks ago. So she put my number in her phone. She had been having chemotherapy for the past six months and was rather out of it. She was just getting back into the swing of things.
God is good. That was the second time that kind of prayer was answered and in an even better way than I could have imagined. I was so glad I went by myself. The show was awesome and I got to see my friend.
Dec 16, 2009
Dec 10, 2009
Excellence Vs. Perfection
Excellence:
- Being and doing the best you can do
- Merit/virtue
- A God-like quality
- Impossibly high standards
- Failure to achieve perfection is a sign of worthlessness
- Counterfeit to excellence
Dec 8, 2009
Condemnation Vs. Conviction
Condemnation:
- A LIE from the enemy
- A pronounement of judgment
- About who you are as a person
- Motivated by hate
- Facilitates feelings of shame, self-loathing
- Ends in dispair and/or depression
- From the Holy Spirit
- Meant to change behavior
- Not about who you are as a person
- Motivated by love
- Facilitates guilt and repentence (change of behavior)
- Ends in becoming more like Jesus
STRESSED OUT!!!!
Ever since Sunday I have been crying off and on. Ever since I returned to work I have been so stressed out. I am realizing that I do not know how to deal with stress. That is why it comes out in ailments in my body because I push it inside because I don't know how to deal with it all.
Now I find out that the blog I wrote never got published. I was just skipped over like I'm not that important. I know that old lie that I don't matter and that I'm not good enough. And that's exactly how I feel right now. I also have felt that way when parents ignore my statements to them to pay their bill. But even though I know it's a lie, I don't know how else to feel. I still feel defeated and worn out.
It's all too much. I kept saying this morning that I give up, I can't do it, blah, blah, blah. Yes, Diann did write a letter to help the parents "communicate" with me, after I talked to her about my problem with them. But it's one thing after another, it seems. I come home and once again forgot to take the trash can to the curb before the trash truck came (and they NEVER come at the same time). Kristin also forgets to take the trash out and basically "forgets" to even clean up when it's her turn.
And then there's Christmas coming up in three weeks and I have no money because I just had to take four days off of work unpaid and had to spend $600+ on Opie because he has diabetes. Not to mention the medical bills that just keep piling up and up and up. If I don't get assistance with the gall bladder surgery, I'm getting ready to have a HUGE medical bill that I will never be able to pay off.
All of this makes me want to curl up in a ball in my room and never come out.
Now I find out that the blog I wrote never got published. I was just skipped over like I'm not that important. I know that old lie that I don't matter and that I'm not good enough. And that's exactly how I feel right now. I also have felt that way when parents ignore my statements to them to pay their bill. But even though I know it's a lie, I don't know how else to feel. I still feel defeated and worn out.
It's all too much. I kept saying this morning that I give up, I can't do it, blah, blah, blah. Yes, Diann did write a letter to help the parents "communicate" with me, after I talked to her about my problem with them. But it's one thing after another, it seems. I come home and once again forgot to take the trash can to the curb before the trash truck came (and they NEVER come at the same time). Kristin also forgets to take the trash out and basically "forgets" to even clean up when it's her turn.
And then there's Christmas coming up in three weeks and I have no money because I just had to take four days off of work unpaid and had to spend $600+ on Opie because he has diabetes. Not to mention the medical bills that just keep piling up and up and up. If I don't get assistance with the gall bladder surgery, I'm getting ready to have a HUGE medical bill that I will never be able to pay off.
All of this makes me want to curl up in a ball in my room and never come out.
Dec 6, 2009
My Retreat (Sun, Nov. 29, 2009)
Today was a day dedicated to God, so I decided not to do any real “work.” This morning, I put on my praise CD and wept and danced and cried and laughed in worship for an hour or so. I felt God’s presence dancing with me and holding me as I cried in his arms on the sofa.
Then I felt I needed to take communion, at the altar behind the chairs. I removed the strange clay figure kneeling (no idols on God’s altar). I got the grape juice I bought yesterday and a saltine cracker and lit the candles (which is harder for me, I hate matches and flames. Luckily I didn’t set the place or myself on fire). I read the passage in 1 Corinthians about the Lord’s supper and cried and listened to God speak to me. I asked him if I could write down what he said. This is what I wrote:
“My light shines upon you – you are more than what you think you are. My daughter, you are mine. (I cried out at this point, interrupting him, “Why can’t I believe that? Why can’t I live like that?”) You only see in the physical. I see you as more than the physical. Allow me to open your eyes to the spiritual – to see with my eyes yourself and the world. You DO have a purpose. I am writing for you a better story. Will you believe?
Do not fear, my beloved. I will not forsake you. You the light to the world – this dark world, but I am the source of your light. Thank you for remembering me today.”
Then I said “I need to change my focus. It’s always on me, my health, my, my, my…It’s not about me.”
I continued after that listening to the praise music and gathering collage material (and worrying about my cat, texting Kristin about whether or not she fed him and gave him his insulin shot). I made two collages in my collage journal that I haven’t used since 2005. God spoke to me a lot in the second one, which I painted blue with red streaks across the blue and titled “God’s Heart.” I have been praying today for a renewed passion and love for Him. And not just in times of solitude like this, but in my every day life.
Then I watched the documentary “The Ordinary Radicals” about Shane Claiborne’s book tour of “Jesus for President.” It opened my eyes to see a world I haven’t wanted to see, living in my Christian bubble. Last night I lamented my inability to write a 500-700 word blog for the writer’s group. I kept saying, “I have nothing to say,” even when my own laptop mocked me with the hp slogan printed on the top: “What do you have to say?”
Today I sat and wrote over 700 words about seeking a transformation and seeing the world as Jesus does and being real about my lack of relationship with God and other people. I want God to change my story and thereby change me. But I know it will take stepping out of this bubble, my comfort zone, to do it. That scares me. I don’t know if I’ll ever really be ready for that. The unknown and the thought of pain and struggle really does scare me. But I hear my Lord saying to me, “Fear not!” “Be strong and courageous. I will not leave you nor forsake you.” (Joshua 1:5-6)
I will watch Angels and Demons in a little while and see what thoughts that movie provokes. The sky is beautiful right now. Several shades of blue; the clouds on the move over the mountain in the distance. I do love it here, but I know this is not where God calls me, even though I wish it were and I could stay here, sequestered from the cruel world. There is pain to face so that I may be able to comfort someone else down the road who faced similar pain. It is all so overwhelming to me now, but I know I have to learn to trust Him who does have a plan in all the madness.
Then I felt I needed to take communion, at the altar behind the chairs. I removed the strange clay figure kneeling (no idols on God’s altar). I got the grape juice I bought yesterday and a saltine cracker and lit the candles (which is harder for me, I hate matches and flames. Luckily I didn’t set the place or myself on fire). I read the passage in 1 Corinthians about the Lord’s supper and cried and listened to God speak to me. I asked him if I could write down what he said. This is what I wrote:
“My light shines upon you – you are more than what you think you are. My daughter, you are mine. (I cried out at this point, interrupting him, “Why can’t I believe that? Why can’t I live like that?”) You only see in the physical. I see you as more than the physical. Allow me to open your eyes to the spiritual – to see with my eyes yourself and the world. You DO have a purpose. I am writing for you a better story. Will you believe?
Do not fear, my beloved. I will not forsake you. You the light to the world – this dark world, but I am the source of your light. Thank you for remembering me today.”
Then I said “I need to change my focus. It’s always on me, my health, my, my, my…It’s not about me.”
I continued after that listening to the praise music and gathering collage material (and worrying about my cat, texting Kristin about whether or not she fed him and gave him his insulin shot). I made two collages in my collage journal that I haven’t used since 2005. God spoke to me a lot in the second one, which I painted blue with red streaks across the blue and titled “God’s Heart.” I have been praying today for a renewed passion and love for Him. And not just in times of solitude like this, but in my every day life.
Then I watched the documentary “The Ordinary Radicals” about Shane Claiborne’s book tour of “Jesus for President.” It opened my eyes to see a world I haven’t wanted to see, living in my Christian bubble. Last night I lamented my inability to write a 500-700 word blog for the writer’s group. I kept saying, “I have nothing to say,” even when my own laptop mocked me with the hp slogan printed on the top: “What do you have to say?”
Today I sat and wrote over 700 words about seeking a transformation and seeing the world as Jesus does and being real about my lack of relationship with God and other people. I want God to change my story and thereby change me. But I know it will take stepping out of this bubble, my comfort zone, to do it. That scares me. I don’t know if I’ll ever really be ready for that. The unknown and the thought of pain and struggle really does scare me. But I hear my Lord saying to me, “Fear not!” “Be strong and courageous. I will not leave you nor forsake you.” (Joshua 1:5-6)
I will watch Angels and Demons in a little while and see what thoughts that movie provokes. The sky is beautiful right now. Several shades of blue; the clouds on the move over the mountain in the distance. I do love it here, but I know this is not where God calls me, even though I wish it were and I could stay here, sequestered from the cruel world. There is pain to face so that I may be able to comfort someone else down the road who faced similar pain. It is all so overwhelming to me now, but I know I have to learn to trust Him who does have a plan in all the madness.
My Retreat (Sat. Nov. 28, 2009)
Today I found the cool café in Traveler’s Rest and then a really nice Christian bookstore where I bought some Bibles (one a gift for Mandy) and some cool music. Luckily I found my way back and that took about three hours. I graded four papers (five more to go) and listened to Donald Miller’s first two CDs for the second time, taking notes for the blog I started writing that is due tomorrow. Then I watched a movie and now I’m writing in my journal.
I don’t recall spending any quality time with God today though. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I have such an aversion to sitting down with Him. Wait, though I did sit in this chair for a few minutes this morning in silence. But I find when I sit in silence, my thoughts seem to take over and get me distracted. So I was distracted so I got up and finished getting ready and left.
Now I’m listening to music and my fan is on so I won’t be sitting in silence. The silence kind of scares me, especially when I’m alone. I guess I don’t know what to do or what to say in the silence and it all seems pointless.
Donald Miller just starts doing all these things, these risky things. Things he wouldn’t have normally done. Who rides a bike all the way across the country? What is the story I’m living? I feel like it’s a page full of meaningless experiences, random happenings, noise. Not music, not something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere.
Where am I going? Do I have an ambition, a desire? No, I don’t. I’m just existing, just going through the motions. Just going from one day to the next denying the possibility that day could be my last. And then what? What will people remember me for? Not my passion for God, not my service to others. Maybe a good friend, a good daughter, a good sister. That’s not good enough!!!!
I remember when I was in high school, sitting in my room and thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. I remember thinking I just wanted to make a difference in the world. But I haven’t. The last 15 years have been worth nothing. Going from one deadend job to another. Seeking that all-illusive purpose that evades my hands each time I think I’ve finally grasped it.
I’ve felt like I couldn’t change. That I’m stuck with who I am. And who am I? Beneath the appearances, the masks I put on so everyone thinks I’m fine. Who do I think I am…that’s really the question. And what I think is probably not the truth, but it’s what I think, which makes it true to me. It’s my perception, my reality. So I think I’m a failure in life. I’m a failure to God.
I’m fat, lazy, full of excuses, unmotivated, stuck in the river of life that is taking me wherever it might lead. I’m not trying to paddle, not trying to change my destiny. I’m stuck in the current, going through the motions of swimming, but not really putting forth much effort. That is who I THINK I am. That’s who I have been for so many years. My experience, my actions show me to be that way.
I don’t know how I can begin to think of myself another way, a way that I am not. I am afraid that if I try to be a person I am not, I will fail. Once again. And thus, I am a failure. A self-fulfilling prophecy. And the cycle continues. How do I get off?
The biggest risk I’ve made has been to teach a class at RCCC. I’ve wanted to quit. I still feel like a failure with that. I feel like I’ve failed my students, like I haven’t taught them like I should have. I’ve always wanted to do something that meant something, that changed lives, that made a real difference in the world. I haven’t found it. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will. Or if I’m just supposed to be stuck forever.
If I can change my story, I don’t know how to start. Is it to help change someone else’s story? Is it to start listening to God as He is trying to write me a better story? Is it to obey Him? How do I hear His voice when I have tried and can’t. When my own voice is louder? I came here to get away and to hear God. I came to, yes, do my work, but to also spend time with Him. I must try. I don’t want to die with the story I’ve been living. I want to live a better story.
I don’t recall spending any quality time with God today though. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I have such an aversion to sitting down with Him. Wait, though I did sit in this chair for a few minutes this morning in silence. But I find when I sit in silence, my thoughts seem to take over and get me distracted. So I was distracted so I got up and finished getting ready and left.
Now I’m listening to music and my fan is on so I won’t be sitting in silence. The silence kind of scares me, especially when I’m alone. I guess I don’t know what to do or what to say in the silence and it all seems pointless.
Donald Miller just starts doing all these things, these risky things. Things he wouldn’t have normally done. Who rides a bike all the way across the country? What is the story I’m living? I feel like it’s a page full of meaningless experiences, random happenings, noise. Not music, not something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere.
Where am I going? Do I have an ambition, a desire? No, I don’t. I’m just existing, just going through the motions. Just going from one day to the next denying the possibility that day could be my last. And then what? What will people remember me for? Not my passion for God, not my service to others. Maybe a good friend, a good daughter, a good sister. That’s not good enough!!!!
I remember when I was in high school, sitting in my room and thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. I remember thinking I just wanted to make a difference in the world. But I haven’t. The last 15 years have been worth nothing. Going from one deadend job to another. Seeking that all-illusive purpose that evades my hands each time I think I’ve finally grasped it.
I’ve felt like I couldn’t change. That I’m stuck with who I am. And who am I? Beneath the appearances, the masks I put on so everyone thinks I’m fine. Who do I think I am…that’s really the question. And what I think is probably not the truth, but it’s what I think, which makes it true to me. It’s my perception, my reality. So I think I’m a failure in life. I’m a failure to God.
I’m fat, lazy, full of excuses, unmotivated, stuck in the river of life that is taking me wherever it might lead. I’m not trying to paddle, not trying to change my destiny. I’m stuck in the current, going through the motions of swimming, but not really putting forth much effort. That is who I THINK I am. That’s who I have been for so many years. My experience, my actions show me to be that way.
I don’t know how I can begin to think of myself another way, a way that I am not. I am afraid that if I try to be a person I am not, I will fail. Once again. And thus, I am a failure. A self-fulfilling prophecy. And the cycle continues. How do I get off?
The biggest risk I’ve made has been to teach a class at RCCC. I’ve wanted to quit. I still feel like a failure with that. I feel like I’ve failed my students, like I haven’t taught them like I should have. I’ve always wanted to do something that meant something, that changed lives, that made a real difference in the world. I haven’t found it. I’m beginning to wonder if I ever will. Or if I’m just supposed to be stuck forever.
If I can change my story, I don’t know how to start. Is it to help change someone else’s story? Is it to start listening to God as He is trying to write me a better story? Is it to obey Him? How do I hear His voice when I have tried and can’t. When my own voice is louder? I came here to get away and to hear God. I came to, yes, do my work, but to also spend time with Him. I must try. I don’t want to die with the story I’ve been living. I want to live a better story.
My Retreat - La Foresta (Friday, Nov 27, 2009)
Kind and Giving Things
I just realized that I was supposed to have been journaling all week but haven’t. I guess I had it in my head I would journal during my weekend retreat. However, I have done some kind things during the last week.
I gave three bags of food to different people. One was to my mom, who didn’t seem all that appreciative. She was more concerned there was something she wouldn’t like in it. I told her that Tiffany wanted me to give it to her, but that it was from our church. They had extra bags left over, so I took three to give away.
Another one went to Larry, who works for Diann as a handyman of sorts. I told him the bag was from me and Mandy and we wanted to bless him. A few minutes later I hear he’s trying to give it to another co-worker because he’s got a cupboard full of food that he’s too lazy to cook. I realized I should have given it to someone else. If he decided to give it to someone else who needed it more, then that would be fine with me.
The last one I gave to Mary Ann, the woman who used to be Diann’s housekeeper. She was very appreciative. I also told her the bag was from me and Mandy. She called Mandy to thank her. Diann also gave her $50 for Thanksgiving, just because. She’s a very nice lady. I miss seeing her twice a week, when I used to pick her up and take her to Diann’s house every Wednesday and Friday. She invited Mandy and me over any time. At least that one I could feel good about.
On Friday of last week, I gave my coworker, Misty, a thank you card just thanking her for being a friend and offering to spend more time with her outside of work. She thought it was very sweet of me. It felt good, but kind of awkward in a way because I’m kind of like a supervisor to her, but a friend too and it was kind of awkward to just open myself up like that. But she had sent me a card some months ago, appreciative of me being a friend to her.
I have tried to do little things to help people out. I’ve been trying to do that for some time now. Especially at work. I go above and beyond there, trying to help out in different ways, even it’s just a small thing. But I get into thinking that I do so much more than most everybody else and nothing is ever said about my taking initiative and doing more than is required. I feel unappreciated, I guess.
Last night, I went to the hospital to eat Thanksgiving dinner with my mom in the cafeteria where she works. While I was there, I had to go see if I could visit Bob. Mom found his room number and after getting lost, she walked with me to the critical unit, but I couldn’t go in. So she went in and found Lisa, his wife, and told her I was there. Lisa came out and talked to me. Bob is doing better than expected. Apparently the doctors had been telling her he wasn’t going to make it. But he’s breathing on his own. And he’ll be going to rehabilitation soon. She is a strong woman to deal with this. I asked if she needed anything. She said no. I hugged her and told her I would be praying for him and to tell him that I was there and I would be praying. She thanked me for coming by. I was tempted to just leave, but I’m glad I didn’t.
As far as Kim…well, I just called and left a message (at 3:23 p.m.). I told her I’m out of town but I was thinking about her. I wished her a happy late Thanksgiving and asked if perhaps we can get together sometime next week, if she has time, to catch up. I asked her to call me back when she can. Hopefully she will. I would love to get together with her. I realize that we will probably never be as close as we once were, but I still love her and I want to be a better friend than I have been in the last three years. I want to be there for her as she goes through this cancer journey. I miss her (I’m crying as I write this). I wonder if I haven’t failed her as a friend. I haven’t kept in touch with her either. I really hope she calls me back. Even if we can’t be as close as before, I can still be a friend to her. Even if she can’t really be one to me right now. I can only imagine what she is going through right now. I need to pray for her.
Friday, Nov. 27 continued…
Well, I wasted most of the day today. I did finish Donald Miller’s book on CD and wrote some in my journal, but then I wasted four hours with the TV on and doing puzzles. I shouldn’t even have the TV on this weekend. Except to watch the documentary on Shane’s book. Why do I waste so much time?
I feel like I need to come up with a schedule just so I won’t waste time. But I don’t really want to be on a schedule, yet I have things I really must do while I’m here. Like grade papers and come up with questions to ask the teacher I’m meeting with on Tuesday about the class I’ll be teaching in the spring. Those things I must do.
Other things I SHOULD do include spending time with God. That should really be a MUST do also. Yet it’s not. Why is that?
I don’t feel good…my stomach has been so upset since Wednesday night. Yet I still wanted to come, I needed to come. I need to rest. I brought some collage stuff. And art stuff. I hope to do some of that too while I’m here. As well as read and study the Bible.
But tomorrow I want to visit the local coffee shop so I can hook up to the internet and check my email. I’m still not sure if I’m going to have to write a blog this weekend since I haven’t heard from Kim or Tami.
I’m really tired. I think tonight will be an early night. I hope and pray that I don’t wake up hurting like I did last night and have to make myself throw up to feel better.
Disappointment and Writing
I feel like such a disappointment. The last two times it has been my turn to write a blog for my writer’s group’s blog, I haven’t done it. This last time I really forgot all about it. But apparently it was not a priority. It wasn’t before, either. Writing doesn’t seem to be a priority for me. Hasn’t been for awhile. It’s like I have an aversion to writing. I start many different writing projects, but can’t finish any of them. I thought I would be doing freelance writing about five or six years ago. I was going to writer’s retreats and had a whole notebook of tips and ideas and guidelines. But I did nothing with any of it. It sat on my shelf until now the guidelines are all out of date.
When I think about why I didn’t do anything with it, I remember having the desire but then when I saw all the work that I would have to do, I got overwhelmed and couldn’t bring myself to do it. It didn’t seem worth all the work, I guess. Or maybe I just wanted it to be easy. It was easy to do freelancing for The Charlotte World. All I had to do was email Warren an idea and if he agreed to it, I just wrote the story and sent it in. I didn’t want to learn how to write query letters and go through the hassle of trying to even GET a freelance job.
Perhaps Donald Miller is right. Writing is not fun. The actual writing part. And maybe that’s why I don’t do it. Like with my fiction books I’ve started. It would be fun for a little while, but then I would get stuck and not know what to do and then I would hear the voices in my head tell me that I don’t know what I’m doing, why am I even writing at all? Then I would quit. I would go back to it maybe months later. Or maybe not at all.
Maybe I thought writing would be “glamorous.” But it’s not. It’s hard. Like most everything else I’ve done. Which makes me wonder if I’m really a writer. I don’t think like a writer does. I’m not very observant and I don’t daydream or think of stories and characters all the time. I don’t feel like a writer. Sometimes I wonder why I’m in a writer’s group when I don’t write and can’t even write a 500-word blog every three months. What’ the point?
I just realized that I was supposed to have been journaling all week but haven’t. I guess I had it in my head I would journal during my weekend retreat. However, I have done some kind things during the last week.
I gave three bags of food to different people. One was to my mom, who didn’t seem all that appreciative. She was more concerned there was something she wouldn’t like in it. I told her that Tiffany wanted me to give it to her, but that it was from our church. They had extra bags left over, so I took three to give away.
Another one went to Larry, who works for Diann as a handyman of sorts. I told him the bag was from me and Mandy and we wanted to bless him. A few minutes later I hear he’s trying to give it to another co-worker because he’s got a cupboard full of food that he’s too lazy to cook. I realized I should have given it to someone else. If he decided to give it to someone else who needed it more, then that would be fine with me.
The last one I gave to Mary Ann, the woman who used to be Diann’s housekeeper. She was very appreciative. I also told her the bag was from me and Mandy. She called Mandy to thank her. Diann also gave her $50 for Thanksgiving, just because. She’s a very nice lady. I miss seeing her twice a week, when I used to pick her up and take her to Diann’s house every Wednesday and Friday. She invited Mandy and me over any time. At least that one I could feel good about.
On Friday of last week, I gave my coworker, Misty, a thank you card just thanking her for being a friend and offering to spend more time with her outside of work. She thought it was very sweet of me. It felt good, but kind of awkward in a way because I’m kind of like a supervisor to her, but a friend too and it was kind of awkward to just open myself up like that. But she had sent me a card some months ago, appreciative of me being a friend to her.
I have tried to do little things to help people out. I’ve been trying to do that for some time now. Especially at work. I go above and beyond there, trying to help out in different ways, even it’s just a small thing. But I get into thinking that I do so much more than most everybody else and nothing is ever said about my taking initiative and doing more than is required. I feel unappreciated, I guess.
Last night, I went to the hospital to eat Thanksgiving dinner with my mom in the cafeteria where she works. While I was there, I had to go see if I could visit Bob. Mom found his room number and after getting lost, she walked with me to the critical unit, but I couldn’t go in. So she went in and found Lisa, his wife, and told her I was there. Lisa came out and talked to me. Bob is doing better than expected. Apparently the doctors had been telling her he wasn’t going to make it. But he’s breathing on his own. And he’ll be going to rehabilitation soon. She is a strong woman to deal with this. I asked if she needed anything. She said no. I hugged her and told her I would be praying for him and to tell him that I was there and I would be praying. She thanked me for coming by. I was tempted to just leave, but I’m glad I didn’t.
As far as Kim…well, I just called and left a message (at 3:23 p.m.). I told her I’m out of town but I was thinking about her. I wished her a happy late Thanksgiving and asked if perhaps we can get together sometime next week, if she has time, to catch up. I asked her to call me back when she can. Hopefully she will. I would love to get together with her. I realize that we will probably never be as close as we once were, but I still love her and I want to be a better friend than I have been in the last three years. I want to be there for her as she goes through this cancer journey. I miss her (I’m crying as I write this). I wonder if I haven’t failed her as a friend. I haven’t kept in touch with her either. I really hope she calls me back. Even if we can’t be as close as before, I can still be a friend to her. Even if she can’t really be one to me right now. I can only imagine what she is going through right now. I need to pray for her.
Friday, Nov. 27 continued…
Well, I wasted most of the day today. I did finish Donald Miller’s book on CD and wrote some in my journal, but then I wasted four hours with the TV on and doing puzzles. I shouldn’t even have the TV on this weekend. Except to watch the documentary on Shane’s book. Why do I waste so much time?
I feel like I need to come up with a schedule just so I won’t waste time. But I don’t really want to be on a schedule, yet I have things I really must do while I’m here. Like grade papers and come up with questions to ask the teacher I’m meeting with on Tuesday about the class I’ll be teaching in the spring. Those things I must do.
Other things I SHOULD do include spending time with God. That should really be a MUST do also. Yet it’s not. Why is that?
I don’t feel good…my stomach has been so upset since Wednesday night. Yet I still wanted to come, I needed to come. I need to rest. I brought some collage stuff. And art stuff. I hope to do some of that too while I’m here. As well as read and study the Bible.
But tomorrow I want to visit the local coffee shop so I can hook up to the internet and check my email. I’m still not sure if I’m going to have to write a blog this weekend since I haven’t heard from Kim or Tami.
I’m really tired. I think tonight will be an early night. I hope and pray that I don’t wake up hurting like I did last night and have to make myself throw up to feel better.
Disappointment and Writing
I feel like such a disappointment. The last two times it has been my turn to write a blog for my writer’s group’s blog, I haven’t done it. This last time I really forgot all about it. But apparently it was not a priority. It wasn’t before, either. Writing doesn’t seem to be a priority for me. Hasn’t been for awhile. It’s like I have an aversion to writing. I start many different writing projects, but can’t finish any of them. I thought I would be doing freelance writing about five or six years ago. I was going to writer’s retreats and had a whole notebook of tips and ideas and guidelines. But I did nothing with any of it. It sat on my shelf until now the guidelines are all out of date.
When I think about why I didn’t do anything with it, I remember having the desire but then when I saw all the work that I would have to do, I got overwhelmed and couldn’t bring myself to do it. It didn’t seem worth all the work, I guess. Or maybe I just wanted it to be easy. It was easy to do freelancing for The Charlotte World. All I had to do was email Warren an idea and if he agreed to it, I just wrote the story and sent it in. I didn’t want to learn how to write query letters and go through the hassle of trying to even GET a freelance job.
Perhaps Donald Miller is right. Writing is not fun. The actual writing part. And maybe that’s why I don’t do it. Like with my fiction books I’ve started. It would be fun for a little while, but then I would get stuck and not know what to do and then I would hear the voices in my head tell me that I don’t know what I’m doing, why am I even writing at all? Then I would quit. I would go back to it maybe months later. Or maybe not at all.
Maybe I thought writing would be “glamorous.” But it’s not. It’s hard. Like most everything else I’ve done. Which makes me wonder if I’m really a writer. I don’t think like a writer does. I’m not very observant and I don’t daydream or think of stories and characters all the time. I don’t feel like a writer. Sometimes I wonder why I’m in a writer’s group when I don’t write and can’t even write a 500-word blog every three months. What’ the point?
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