I’ve neglected you for weeks, my Readers, and I apologize.  I haven’t forgotten you.  In fact, you are the reason I haven’t completed and posted an article or added to my manuscript.  I’ve stared at my computer screen for long periods of time over the past several weeks and haven’t allowed myself to write what has consumed my thoughts.  I’ve re-read many of my recent posts and have noticed a common theme – birds singing, streams dancing, leaves rustling, nature hard at work keeping me cheerful.  While there’s much truth in that (nature does cheer me up when I’m down!), I realized today while I was working on another “I’m doing my best to write about the bright side” themed article that I’ve been ignoring those not-so-pleasant feelings.  I didn’t want to depress my readers. 

Or, maybe I didn’t want to admit that I’ve been struggling for some time to honestly deal with my thoughts and attitudes about events in my life.  Bingo!  The lightening bolt of reality has struck.

Life has a tendency to throw unpleasant, sometimes downright Hades-on-earth style blows.  Some people can handle any problem thrown at them, whether it’s something as trivial as rain falling on an outdoor celebration or something as serious as being told they have cancer.  They have this enviable ability to let God have complete control.  I, on the other hand, don’t have this ability.  I am a fix it, change it, rearrange it kind of woman.  I will spend hours dissecting and analyzing an issue to find the best solution – even when there isn’t a thing in the world I can do about it.  I work myself into nervous breakdown over things for which I believe, if I dig long enough, I have the solution.  I see disaster on the horizon and make myself sick over the “what-if-this-happens” scenario.  Several weeks ago, my pastor’s wife, Donnalene (what a wonderful blessing she is!), pointed out in her gentle but matter-of-fact way that I have to release my need to control and let God have His place.  I agreed; spent hours reading the scripture she gave me, prayed, and convinced myself that all was well.  How wrong I was!

That’s where the whole I’d-better-not-write-about-this issue comes in.  For weeks I’ve lived in this frenzied fix-it mentality.  I know what I think the solution is, but it isn’t happening.  I’ve retreated, withdrawn, fallen victim to my analysis and dissection, and worked myself into a migraine that has held me hostage for several weeks.  I dragged myself out of bed this morning, determined that, migraine or no migraine, I was going to write.  That’s what I do.  It’s who I am.  It’s what God has put me on this earth for – words to paper.  I have characters screaming for life.  I can’t leave them locked away in my head anymore.  It’s time to let them out.

So, here I am.  During my attempt at the cheery, nature bringing me a smile post, the little voice in my head told me to stop.  Quit the sugary, cover up the ugliness nonsense and deal with the truth.  So I did – in my usual analyze it, dissect it, fashion.  I turned on some music, fixed a cup of coffee and opened my Bible.  What I discovered revealed much.

The music had me asking – when and why did I stop singing?  I’ve never been great, but I once loved to sing.  I sang in the choir, was on the worship team.  I sang while driving, while washing dishes, while in the shower.  I quit.  Why?

I looked around my office at the chess board, the telescope, the books of poetry, one of my sketches.  I wondered why I quit playing chess.  Why did I quit drawing?  Why did I quit reading poetry?  When was the last time I took the telescope out to look at the moon?  I spend hours in this room, staring at the computer screen.  Why have I stopped doing the other things I once enjoyed so much?

When did I stop reading my Bible to hear God?  When did it turn into a need to know the stuff rather than knowing the author?  What happened?

Two nights ago I had a dream.  I have some friends who are talented musicians.  In my dream, I was a host on a morning news show on which the friends were guests.  They sang their beautiful, God-honoring songs, and shared their testimony.  In the dream, when the camera went dark and we were off the air, one of the friends asked me if I was happy.  My answer was “Life isn’t about being happy.  It’s about doing what’s right and living according to God’s plan.”  Their response was “That’s true, but you’re not happy and I believe that if you were truly giving it all to God, you’d have a little of that joyful spark you once had.  I think it’s time to go home.”

I woke up thinking he meant it was time to go home to Georgia, the place I love so much.  I realize now, after taking time to analyze this whole mess I’ve allowed my mind to get into, that “going home” meant getting myself truly back to God.  Not just digging into His Word for the stuff, but digging in to find Him again, to go beyond the head-knowledge and surrender again to the heart and spirit.  I realize that I stopped doing the things I love – singing, drawing, playing chess, reading poetry, staring at the moon – because I’ve become so intent on producing something.  I have to be getting things done, coming up with solutions, figuring things out.  I don’t even write the way I once did.  It’s all about what I need to accomplish and not what brings me Godly-joy.

It’s time to let it go.  I know it won’t be easy.  My head will start dissecting and analyzing.  I will want to formulate a solution.  But, I don’t have to carry the burden.  I realize I can let myself sing again.  I can let myself draw, play chess, read poetry.  I can spend an evening looking through my telescope.  I can enjoy nature for its beauty, see the glory in God’s creation.  I want to write again the way I once did.  If I surrender it all to God, I will again have that joyful spark my friend mentioned in my dream. I know if I let God have it, He will work it out.