Sunday, August 2, 2009

God Blogs

Since I was twenty, I wanted to be a writer. However, physically composing and putting thoughts together? Well, that is a different story. Since our house fire, I have been praying for the motivation, inspiration, or a gun to my head, to get me to start the work of my heart.

I was not lacking material. I had an eating disorder in the 80’s. My son had oodles of heath issues, including heart surgeries and coming home from the hospital on a ventilator, in the 90’s. In 2007, our house caught fire while we were on vacation. Every ten years God has sent me a personal catastrophe. Clearly, He wants me to do something positive with all these storms that have poured down each decade. He created me, gave me the desire to write, and he handed me the material. I would not budge.

Everything in my life took precedence over pushing the keyboard. The kid’s needs were more important. The part-time job was taking my extra time. My husband and sons needed clean underwear. Life got in the way and it was the perfect buffer to keep me from doing what I thought God designed me to do in the first place: write. Simply write.

Kari Schmitt inspired me. My friend of 30 years started a blog called "Aspirations" (check it out). She plugged away at it every day. Every dam day! How did she do that and have three kids, a life, and wear makeup? Okay then, I too, will start a blog. I did last February on Wordpress.com. It was a random, free blog site plucked from the 2 gajillion hits I got on Google. It took time to set up, but I did it. So I thought. There that empty, little blog sat for months. The times I attempted to write, I couldn’t figure how the toolbar worked, and what did all those other little buttons with pictures on them do? I felt like a technical dinosaur. I felt defeated. I gave up. My gas tank had a hole, and I could go no more. There was not much gas to begin with.

July came and I patched the hole in my gas tank and attempted another drive. This time I tried Blogger.com. It looked easier to navigate, so it couldn’t hurt to try. I still did not have enough gas to get moving. I went back to Wordpress to look at my little site that was collecting cobwebs. But wait, I had a message in my mailbox. Me? A message, from who? What button do I push to read this message? Finally, I located this personal message from the mystery being and it said the following:

“I think you are a very interest young lady. You contain a deep, honest, and curious spirit. Don’t be afraid to open up and smile at the camera, or in your case, let the camera inside of your soul. Share your soul. A lot of valuable knowledge is stored in there. Give the little wisdom gleaned form SDSU, Lucas Fisher and the House Fire to others free…..”

What inspiring words those were to me! Who would write this? I don’t know many people who would use a word like “glean”? And apparently they know me quite intimately. My college, my kid, my fire. Few people could compose this. I asked my husband, my sisters, my counselor, my father-in-law, and Kari. Only they might know me well enough and could use the word , “glean” correctly. They all said,, ”You had a blog? It wasn’t me.” I told my sister Cara that those motivating words must be from God. She assured me, “God doesn’t blog”.

I disagreed. My mystery blog had to come straight from God. Those encouraging, simple words shot straight to my heart. They filled my tank, patched the hole, and then I emotionally sold that old clunker. Those words meant so very much to me. Because of them, I am now driving an eighteen wheeler gas tanker truck. It took 21 years, but finally, I am really writing. My sister is wrong, God blogs.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

You are so brave. I applaud you for finding the courage to blog. You have been through a lot, but remember that God will not give you more than you can handle. Your family will be in my thoughts as you continue your journey and I look forward to reading your blogs.
Best wishes,
Theresa (Young) Prus

Anonymous said...

ЎUf, me gustу! Tan clara y positiva.
Gracias

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