Mondays + Mutism

I hate today. It's Monday.

I hate it because I HAD to get out of bed this morning. No sleeping in allowed on Mondays. Doesn't mean I don't dual with my alarm clock though! 

Monday is groan-worthy. I have to crawl out of my small and very comfortable dream world and join the real one. I don't like it nearly as much.

Just saying.

I love today. It's Monday.

I have six children in my class and that's a very nice number. Two of my children go home at midday and my babies are happy - no teething, no temperature, just happy. Which makes me very happy.

I love quiet days like today. It means that I don't need to talk the whole day long to every person at every moment.

This is how I was meant to live.

Last week I lost my voice. For one day. It's hard navigating the challenges of my normal work day and in spite of the additional challenge of not having a voice, I had a really good day. This may sound strange but I really liked not being able to speak. It forced me to slow down a bit, to notice the nuances in my day - answering a child's need without asking, just meeting it because I saw it. I might have missed it otherwise. 

It was strange and kinda funny to see how others reacted to my quietude. Most thought there was something wrong with me and asked if I was okay. They were satisfied with my whispered answer that I had lost my voice. But what if I hadn't lost my voice? If it was in perfect working order and I chose not to use it twenty hours of the day? Would people still look for a reason behind my reserve? 

I'm going to be bold here and say yes, they would. In fact, I know they would.

As a child I had an anxiety disorder called selective mutism. Here's some information about selective mutism - thank you Wikipedia. I would often have the desire to speak to someone, but the fear of doing so overwhelmed me in such a paralyzing way that it was virtually impossible for words to escape my mouth. Lots of people wondered about this and asked my parents what was wrong with me. Because not talking at all in not normal.

Since then I've learnt that as much as not talking is abnormal, so too is talking too little. When I'm quiet, people sometimes think there is something wrong. But they're wrong. There's nothing wrong at all. If you were wondering, no, I'm no longer affected by selective mutism. Certainly not to the degree that I was as a child. But I'm not completely unaffected either. I crave the mental space and freedom that silence gives. My voice combined with the myriad of others, the interactions that come with it cause me to feel an uncomfortable sense of dread and impending doom. Things get just a little bit much, a bit confusing and a lot overwhelming. I need these quiet days to balance that out and keep me sane and functional. 

Here's to Mondays - good for the mind and the soul and for the heart to overflow with warm fuzzies.

Look Up

I've got this sinking feeling of losing control, like things are spiraling downward in a steady nose dive. 

It's sort of a dark tunnel that I can't find my way out of. Is there even a light at the end of it? I keep putting one foot in front of the other but I don't seem to be getting any closer to the end. I'm losing motivation. Fast. And my vision dims a little bit because I'm not holding onto it as tightly as I was. 

I'm in perpetual survival mode, existing in the now and steadily losing sight of what's coming. I can't do this anymore. I've got to get a grip on this and go back to where I was before. Three-sixty, right back to the beginning and start over again. Jesus, help me to see again. Give me fresh insight and understanding and motivation to face the giants threatening to trample me. 

I am a conqueror and co-heir in Christ. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. He is from everlasting to everlasting. Where does my help come from? From the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. Whom shall I fear? // Rom 8:37, Rom 8:17, Phil 4:13, Ps 90:2, Ps 121:1-2, Ps 27:1

Finding a Beginning

There's been this little voice in the depths of my spirit that's been whispering "It's time to write now." It's a soft voice. But a very persistent one. Almost like that gentle voice of God beckoning me to chase after this dream that's been buried in a dark corner of my heart. And I didn't even realize how deep it went until recently. But the more I've dwelt on the prospect of writing again, the stronger the urge to get going and write. Yet fear has been holding me back. It's the old story. I've marginalized myself by underestimating the things I am able to do with a God-sized, God-inspired dream. Just the possibility of failure keeps me from launching into the unknown and claiming new ground. There's a little part of me - strike that, a big part of me that doubts myself and struggles to fully trust God. 

"Writing? I can't do that. I'm not a writer."

There are some dreams that I've put into the "It's too hard and too impossible and I'm not enough; I might even fail at it so I'll just put it aside and into the pile of 'one day' dreams instead." This is one of those. Only, 'one day' was yesterday's today. And if nothing happens today, it makes the likelihood of achieving my 'one day' dreams unlikely if not impossible. So it's time to get started.

The Spirit works in ways that are so powerful, I marvel at the mystery! He is performing an intensive work in the depth of my being and challenging my attitude toward the dreams and promises that He has put in my heart. He's made me realize that it's not me, but Him in me. And His purposes for these things are what make them worth pursuing. Despite the fear. And despite the unknown. It's true to say that His power really does work best in my weakness.

So as this realization has slowly started to bloom in my heart, I've been eager to start writing again. Only I've been stuck as to where I should begin.  In the search of a suitable reintroduction I've decided that in order to start, I just have to start. Anywhere. Simply the action of creating something from nothing, in absolutely any direction, is the breakthrough necessary to generate momentum.  I have to push my natural inclination toward perfection to one side and embrace the messy, imperfect nature of creative trial-and-error. Let's face it, there's no way to know for sure how it's going to turn out. But actually, I think that's really the beauty of it.