All right, let’s be honest. This blog is, well . . . A few people still read it. At this point, it’s probably all old news anyways–I’m probably just beating the same old drum. That’s fine.
I started this blog to “launch” my writing career–knowing it would be a slow process. I started it really to help myself and to help others who suffered, but I had to meet myself where I was at.
What I was going through was too consuming to be able to focus on writing about anything else.
Still, how long can you sustain a blog about suffering? Especially since you don’t have the time, really, to market and promote? Facebook and my nine followers on twitter are the only ones who ever even see when I publish on my blog,
All this is fine with me. I want to launch my writing career but I don’t have the time to put towards it. Not right now.
My vocation calls. And calls. Being a wife and a mother are my highest priorities. Yes, so I spend more time, running to practices, cleaning, getting drinks and snacks and meals and doing laundry and overseeing and paperwork and . . .
And so an hour a week to blog–it’s not going to cut it.
The writing career has to wait.
But what I’m often really lacking is energy. Why? Because I let the suffering beat me. I let it beat me down, I obsess, I spend time with it, and I feel depressed, indulgent and going in slow motion.
But the thing is, that suffering is only one aspect of my life. Just one. And I make it everything.
I let it define me.
But just look around–just see. SEE. There is so much more to life than that.
I am not my suffering.
There is beauty everywhere.
There is my mothering.
There is my writing.
There is my path to holiness.
MY PATH TO HOLINESS.
My path is a beautiful path, a path marked by suffering, suffering that has helped me to grow closer to God, to understand God more, to understand more of what He wants for me.
You know, I’ve prayed for years to understand God’s love for me. And intellectually I knew the rhetoric, but I never felt it, never really got it.
But through this suffering, I did. I felt it. I understood that He was everything that those who had failed me were not.
He is my beloved, and I am His!
He adores me!
He’s so loving towards me. He sees my worth. He does not want me to hurt. He cares when I do hurt.
He is a friend–a friend who hears me.
It’s beautiful. Knowing this covers over a multitude of hurts and pains, helps me through it. Helps me survive it.
And when I’m not obsessing and focusing on the stupid suffering instead of God’s love, it helps me to do more than survive. It helps me to start to thrive. It’s just a start. But I am so sick of just surviving.
I’ts a wonderful life. The poster in the coffee house where I’m sitting said so.