I try to write all of my posts with intention, a practice of writing words of prose while knowing what will follow the preceding words. I have been mulling this post for quite some time, but alas, the days grow shorter, my to-do list gets longer, and I scramble to keep up.
AJ wanted to snuggle tonight, and even though I had plenty to do, I sat with my little one, and remembered the feeling of the rise and fall of his chest, the heavy weight of this growing boy. In the stillness, I remained until he grew restless and wanted to stretch out in bed. But for that hour, I fought back the tears, knowing that life doesn't get any better than times like these.
My heart fills to the brim, until at its peak, the love and adoration for my given life, encompasses all of me, and I can't help but sing songs of praises.
Whenever I get a chance, I sit and read a few blogs. (Albeit not as often as I want to, the job of editing has taken precedence over my time and now there is a consulting editing job to be done in tandem with the first one!). Some of those blogs have a few hundred followers, some have thousands. These women have the equivalent of my town's population following their blogs, awaiting that insight into their daily lives. They draw inspiration for the evening's dinner from their recipes. They look at their sponsors for the perfect pintuck striped shirt for their child's school photos. They heed the authors advice to take pictures in a certain light.
These women talk about how they are planning to write a book. They talk about how a publishing house has chosen to pick up their works and soon the pages will be displayed on bookshelves nationwide.
These women were the ones I was beginning to envy.
And envy is not a good color.
I wanted to be "famous" for lack of a better word, like these women. I wanted to hit the post button and wake up the next morning to see that 30 comments were awaiting my eyes, thirty different people who just had to leave a note about what I wrote.
I wanted to be that blogger with the book deal. What I thought I wanted was to feel important, as though by others acknowledging my presence and my words, I would somehow validate my value as an individual, both personally and professionally.
And then God pulled me back to reality. He placed me among my people.
My husband and my son.
They don't care for fame or fortune, they just ask that I make fresh biscuits every few days. That their favorite t-shirts make it in the days wash. That I skip the chores or bypass the errands for a few more minutes of playing soccer in the front yard. That I hold on a little longer when he goes to hug me.
These are my people. They don't care that I am anyone other than who I am.
With all of that I am so grateful for those who do stop by and read here. Writing is always on my heart, but between work and being a mom and a wife, the days seem to slip away from me.
But that doesn't deter me from finding the time to strike the keys or scribble a quick note.....