Sitting down to write this blog, I have so many ideas in my mind. What ought I write about today?
I could recap the week’s events, my time visiting friends in South Carolina and preaching at Bloom Conference. The theme was based on Esther 4:14, “…for such a time as this.” The first speaker asked the question, “Do you believe you were created by God for such a time as this?”
I love this question! It’s clear and honest, and there’s no shame in the answer. Looking around the room at the 160 women present, getting ready to preach a message of freedom rooted in identity as image bearers, my answer was yes. I do believe I was created by God for such a time as this.
I might not answer yes to that question in another room or on another day. My answer is probably no when I’m sitting in line for two hours at the DMV waiting for an address change on my driver’s license. But on this day, at this conference, with this sermon inside of me–yes.
I could write about that.
Or I could share about how I’m still not caught up from the time change, and the way my productivity has been affected by it. A week later, I can’t shake this lethargy. But why? I travel often to other time zones and have very little problem adjusting to the time change then.
But Daylight Savings Time isn’t just a time change; it’s a change of seasons. We switch from seasons of less daylight hours–as if nature is inviting us to rest with it through the winter–to seasons where the days are longer–as if nature is welcoming us to play a bit more.
With that, it makes sense why it would take a bit longer to adjust. It’s not just the time that’s different, but the expectations we have about rest going into a new season. We’re leaving a season where nature is resting, and us with it. We’re entering a season of budding and blooming, of rapid growth. It’s normal to be tired through this kind of transition.
I could write about that.
Or I could write about Lent, these 40 days leading up to Easter. It’s different for me this year; I feel less connected to God this Lent than I typically do. It’s been hard for me to focus on this part of our church calendar while we are without a “home” church right now.
I could write about simplicity, not just as a trendy topic but the spiritual practice of lessening. The choices for a simple life Matt and I have made over the past few years have benefitted us today in significant ways–far beyond the choices themselves.
I could write about any of the other many things that’s taking up space in my mind today.
But today, I won’t.
I won’t hone in on one topic. I won’t write a normal “Today I” blog, being present in the moment with God’s presence. I will not look for the lesson, or the reason, or the “point” of it.
Because on days like today, it doesn’t really matter what I write, just that I do. I wonder if you can relate?
Some days, it doesn’t matter how you exercise, just that you do. It doesn’t matter what you eat, just that you do.
Some days, it doesn’t matter what Scripture you read, just that you do. It doesn’t matter how you pray, just that you do.
Not every day, but some days, the act of sitting down to write is far more valuable than any of the words that come out. You know those phrases that say “it’s about the journey, not the destination” or something similar? Turns out some days, it really is! The final product is not the only thing to be proud of. The act of writing–even when I don’t know what to say–is, too.
So here I am, writing. Posting a blog about… what is it about exactly? About life. About imperfection. About just being normal when everyone and everything around you says that’s not good enough.
I’m writing. And that’s what matters most today.