Blank pages

Type a sentence.

Delete the sentence.

Type another.

Delete.

Stare at the screen.

Start typing.

Stop typing.

Stare some more.

Delete everything.

Hit "New Post" button and repeat the process.

Walk away and let another day pass.

A million thoughts run through my mind. None seem to stay long enough to be put into actual ideas. Flitting through my brain like a drunken butterfly roaming from flower to flower they never stay long enough to grow and develop.

Posts about rebelliousness. Posts about cancer. Posts about weariness. Posts about hardships and trials. Posts about beauty. Posts about things that upset me. Posts about my family, my kids, my friends. Happy posts. Hopeful posts. Depressing posts. Post after post after post half completed sitting in my "drafts" folder.

My brain's been thrown into a whirlpool spinning endlessly around.

Unlike writing, avoidance comes easily.
I avoid conflict.
I avoid dairy.
I avoid work.
I avoid people.
I avoid talking. yes...I do...believe it or not....

There's too much. So much of life feels like it can't be shared right now. Not in a blog. And not in person. For so many reasons, right now, at least one major part of my existence remains wholly private.
What do I write about when I can't share the thing closest to my heart and foremost in my mind?

Quite Enough

We Are Loved

David Crowder Band

Velvet black night
Pierced with white
Stars waiting quiet
Wide listening sky

Stillness of air
Life hanging there
Out of despair
Rises a prayer

Can we take in Your light
So we can shine like You?
With all this weariness
Can we shine like You?
With this weariness

O we are loved
We are loved
And it's quite enough that
We are loved

We are loved
We are loved
And it's quite enough that
We are loved

Up to my ankles

"Some people are destined to be deep thinkers. I am not one of these people." ~Jen Lancaster

A few years ago, my sister looked at me and said I'm not deep... I've given up on trying to be or thinking I am.

If you know her, you know she's incredibly well read, intelligent, thoughtful and reflective. In her humility, though, she doesn't share that richness with everyone. I think she's "deep" as opposed to shallow. But I guess that's only measured against my own idea of depth.

The older I get, the more I realize when I naively assumed I was in the deep end of thought I was actually wading in the kiddie pool.

I know I still am. And I'm ok with that. I'm not intelligent enough to have completely original thoughts nor well read enough to grasp what's beyond a backyard pool's worth of ideas nor witty enough to banter with the best.

I'm slowly letting go of trying to impress or measure up to those who are either truly my superiors or those who think they are...slowly embracing my average-ness...slowly learing to enjoy being the happy little stick figure girl splashing in 6 inches of thought.

But sitting around a conference table last week with three Phd's, several Master's holders and a prominent, successful business person was enough to throw me off the deep end. Insecurity and fear gripped my heart and held my tongue captive. And when I did speak (which was near to inaudible) everything that came out of my mouth sounded (at least to my own ears) garbled and incoherent.

I still haven't recovered.