wrestling with writing

On sunny days, from the hours of eight a.m. to eleven a.m., the balcony of our apartment is pervaded with warm light. I have discovered the exact science of this just recently, and it has already brought me much joy. As the seasons change, I'm anxious to see how my current joy will be affected - but for now, in this warm light, I am content.

Although it is Sunday morning, I am not in a church building. My immune system has been wrestling out of a strong cold's vice for almost two weeks now, so rest is my worship music this morning... and this patio, my church building. As I feel the sun on my skin, and I hear the birds and dogs making music around me - I wonder that this should be quite enough this morning... for I sense the Lord's presence here, in my heart. Every breeze, every sound, every bit of pleasure in this moment is because He has given life, to me - and as I sit and think on these things, that He is real and well and moving, my heartbeat worships in a way that is all its own.

- - -

Apparently, one of my email accounts was hacked into this past week, by some computer over in France. For many obvious reasons, this freaked me out... issues of financial compromise and identity theft, invasion of privacy, creepiness of actually being hacked, etc. These things, I dealt with immediately. But in addition, I realized that the content of my blog was potentially at risk as well. Sure enough, I typed in the link for my blog, and found that it had apparently been removed. Oh, the terror... Everything is fixed and fine now, and all the necessary changes have been made - but let's hope that never happens again.

When I was backing up all my files, I realized that I had four years worth of content on this blog... four years. When everything is transferred to a Word document, it takes up 170 pages. I had no idea - and that's just four years of the internet-based material. I've got 23 years more, sitting in journals, files, papers, strewn throughout this 1,200 sq. ft. apartment I call home... in less than 5 minutes, this epiphany crawled its way into my Top 10.

As I was scrolling down and down on my new, saved, backed-up-twice Word document... that tiny, ludicrous idea entered my mind, yet again.

Lauren, you have GOT to stop being scared... you know you want to try this. Now, buck up, and let's figure out if you need to do this. Let's just try... let's see if you need to write a book.

... Yeah right.

I then shut my computer, went into the kitchen, and poured myself an ice cold Dr. Pepper. I turned on the TV, browsed through NetFlix for probably about 15 minutes... ended up choosing some lousy British chic flic, which I was bored with in three minutes. Frustratedly, I changed into a different pair of pajama pants, put my hair back in a (very short and stubby) ponytail, and again continued my search of entertainment. After another two minutes, I turned off the TV, got out a book, and started to read.

The book I'm reading, ironically enough, is a memoir... By a girl named Lauren. It is really good, and it is reminiscent of Donald Miller's "Blue Like Jazz". I've been totally into it, taking notes, imagining who in the world these normal people are that write books like this, and wondering if they realized that they needed to write a book when they found that they had 160+ pages of their life written out already... and I wonder if they felt this terror.

Also ironically, is the fact that five years ago, I wrote some lyrics that state quite simply from what I thought at the time was personal experience:

"Out on the limb is where the fruit is found...

And the view is better, higher off the ground.

Lord, please relieve me from these fears,

to which I'm bound...

Help me tear these walls down -

Or teach me how to fly."

- - -

Whether or not I like it, the rumblings are getting harder to ignore. Whether or not it is convenient to recognize, I do have quite a bit of un-utilized time on my hands lately... and I do like to write, and I do have a Savior, a life, and other content that I enjoy writing about. I like the smell of books, and I refuse to buy a Kindle. I grow by reading books - and I think about who wrote them, and I wish sometimes that I could meet them for coffee and ask them questions.

And it goes much deeper than that. From second grade when I won my first poetry contest, through middle school when I learned how to put lyrics to music, through college when I began to blog about life's largeness, and now as a married woman who seeks to still share her life with the people back home... the Lord has always felt nearest, when I have a pen in my hand. It doesn't get much more simplified than that.

Whether or not I choose to really see all this, is entirely up to me... it's a lot of freedom, and I'm grateful that such a thing would not be forced on me.

But let's face it... even through the terror of exposing my heart to the world, all the people I love, the people who don't like me, the people who think books are stupid, and the awareness of all the red-tape that I may find, and the gauntlet of all the unknowns I may face... I really want to try and see what I'm up against. I want to test the waters for one reason only - that if I uncover something worth writing in the process of trying to, then I have grown - and I have nothing to lose. Who knows, who cares... but here goes nothin'.

Thanks for reading,

Lauren