I woke up the other morning to see my husband off to work, and saw an encouraging (wordy) text from a dear friend out west telling me that I needed to write....and not to let feelings of fear or inferiority stop me.
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Over and over I have mulled thoughts around in my head, "what do I want to write about?" "where do I start?" Actually, that has been the biggest thing. You see, in high school I wrote short stories all the time-I also read fiction all the time, so I had a little bit more of a reference bank. At the time, it was something that I couldn't not do. But a lot has happened since then, I have moved out of my parents' house, gone to Bible school, lived in four states, gotten married, took a break from school, got back into school, poured into the lives of amazing people, had people mentor me and pour into my life, volunteered at church, traveled, seen friends and siblings married, painted, crafted, cooked hundreds of meals, played piano with the worship band, endured long periods of long distance between my husband and I for his job, and that is just the surface of the iceberg.
I guess I can say that I have let life get in the way of something I am passionate about, and I haven't really paused in the midst of that vortex over the last eight years. Don't misunderstand me, I love my life, I love who I share it with and where it has taken me. I love that in the last eight years I have seen and experienced so much-I believe it has led to me becoming more balanced in my life, as well as teaching responsibility, how to respond to people and situations more appropriately, and has broadened my horizon. I wouldn't be who I am today if not for the unorthodox path that I chose, and I honestly do not regret it.
So though I am content with the direction life has taken me, I still have the feeling that much of my life is ahead of me. I haven't hit my peak ( at least I don't think so). I am inspired by the women who are full-time career women, wearing business casual and pointy heels all day; I am also inspired by the women who stay at home to raise their children, make their homes, and support their husbands. The free-spirited, the conventional, the modern, the quiet, the loud, the devout, the outcasts-just a few of the life-adoring sorts I have encountered over the years unknowingly inspire me, and I love them for it. I see the conflict of the heart with dreams and reality and it urges me to pen it.
I have tucked that desire away for some time, just feeling that I don't really have anything worthy to say or be read by others, but I am recognizing that what I view as simple or even meaningless can actually be cause to truly infiltrate and influence others. So I will start here, it's simply an outlet to practice. I am contemplating fiction, but I need a little more direction to refine the genre, time period, characters, and dialogue.
Through the process of reigniting long-dormant dreams, I also recognize that my husband is still my first priority. I appreciate that he is so incredibly supportive, but I think it is important to put his desires before mine, and sometimes that means the agenda I have set for myself will be pushed a little further back. This concept is archaic to a lot of people, but he's my better half and I enjoy honoring, respecting, loving, and caring for him. It is not to neglect my own dreams, but each season has a different emphasis. It is becoming a time of making my plans reality instead of floating ambiguously in the space of my mind. That is part of what my husband does for me, sets my feet on the ground so that I am not stuck in the clouds. (Conversely, I keep him from being stuck in a rut, so it works out well). Here is where I will end this little rambling session:
"she turned her can'ts into cans and her dreams into plans..."
~Kobi Yamada
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