I had the privilege to be a guest blogger for a good friend: author, pastor and father, Adam Feldman. You can find my post about how motherhood has impacted my faith here, and while you’re at it, look around and enjoy his writing!
I met Adam and his wife Kim several years ago, when their church was meeting in the living room of someone’s house, none of us had kids yet, and we had a lot more free time to spend at coffee shops, reading and writing and talking. It’s amazing to see where we are now – Metanoia has grown by leaps and bounds, we’ve all had a bunch of kids, jobs and life changes, we see each other much less, but our hearts are still close.
I love when that happens.
“Thus far the mighty mystery of motherhood is this: How is it that doing it all feels like nothing is ever getting done?”
This is what goes through my mind as I finally lay myself down in bed tonight. I yelled at my kids, there are dishes in the sink, and I’m just pretending not to see the pile of laundry in the corner of my room.
But…I got one-on-one story time with my littlest, talked with my 5 year old about when our unborn baby got its soul, and painted my daughter’s fingernails.
And that counts.
“I have advice for people who want to write. I don’t care whether they’re 5 or 500. There are three things that are important: First, if you want to write, you need to keep an honest, unpublishable journal that nobody reads, nobody but you. Where you just put down what you think about life, what you think about things, what you think is fair and what you think is unfair. And second, you need to read. You can’t be a writer if you’re not a reader. It’s the great writers who teach us how to write. The third thing is to write. Just write a little bit every day. Even if it’s for only half an hour — write, write, write.”
Sometimes finding the still point comes from doing, being faithful to the practice of your talents. Then the Spirit brings to life that beautiful result around which your daily work revolves.
“The light of truth burns without a flicker in the depths of a house that is shaken with storms of passion and fear.”
This line from Merton reminds me of a poem I wrote called There Is a Face that opened with these lines:
There is skin, and under
the skin, bone and under
the bone, a steady light –
a tall flame on a still night.
I wrote it imagining our bodies as the house Merton speaks of – a hall of flesh and bone with a holy fire burning deep inside. That still flame, that unwavering light, is the Love which created us and for which we were created. The still point is finding and living in the fire of that Love.
I’ve been away for a long time.
But the lethargic and stifling season I’ve been in is slowly disappearing into cooler, clearer days.
I’m energized by the change. If spring is the world newly born—pale, sweet and unfurling—then fall is the world in its prime—bright, outrageous and sharp.
I’m beginning to dream again…
that I can write;
that I can make some work out of being creative;
that joy always returns;
that I will re-find and remember who I am.