On Writing.

Last summer I baby-sat for two boys, one of them played lacrosse and was in 6th grade. The other was younger and would play catch with me until I couldn't stand it anymore. They live in a pristine neighborhood where their lawn was always perfect. When you walk into their house, there is never anything out of place. It is a very clean, clutter-free home. The mom had perfect hand-writing and I never once saw her frazzled or in a hurry. She was always on-time, always called ahead, and had a check already written out waiting for me when I got there. There were never any dirty dishes in the sink and her fridge looked practically empty because it was so organized. The same with her pantry, there was just enough to have variety and have plenty of food to eat, but not a box of cereal more. There was no half-eaten pizza box stuffed on top of the milk cartons or forgotten box of rice behind the granola bars. You get the picture, she was a neat freak and very controlled, but not unpleasantly so, but just enough to make you feel a little anxious because you didn't want to mess anything up.

Tonight I baby-sat for a family of four, the kids are always in my personal bubble the minute I step through the door ready to show me their lost tooth or tell me about being a flower girl or show me their latest treasure. All three of the older ones talk at the exact same time and it's a beautiful and fun chaos. Little Molly toddles along wondering what all the excitement is about. The house is older, fixed up with lots of character. The kids are loud and hilarious, but they are polite and well-behaved also. I am always greeted with hugs from the mom and dad and offered food and drinks. Their generosity is overwhelming. I love the random clutter in the corners, the dirty dishes in the sink, the fridge filled with leftovers. I love the bath toys in the tub and the jewelry and toiletries littering the bathroom counter giving the room a lived-in look. The house is by no means dirty or overwhelmingly cluttered, just incredibly lived in. It reeks of life and I far better prefer this house. It draws out the free, creative artist in me that longs to live a real and raw life.

As I sat in that house tonight, the fire lit warming the room, the four kids sound asleep upstairs, I read, I wrote and my creative juices started flowing. I have been working on my African essays recently and I picked up a book today called Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott at the library today. I'm a fourth of the way through already and I would be further if I didn't have to write down a quote every 5 minutes because I can't underline because I do not own it, although I'm beginning to think this one might be my next Barnes and Noble purchase. I dug through Anne's thoughts on writing, spurring on questions, doubts, insecurities, and excitement in me. I also caught up on Shauna Niequist's blog, enjoying her story, her descriptions, her humor and her insights into life. Also gleaning some more books from her lists to add to my much-too-long books to read list. Tonight was a night about writing, I've given this up to the Lord, asking what it is that He wants me to do with this passion and skill of mine. I feel tonight I was revving my engines, amping up for what seems to be a greater and intentional pursuit to write, to define why I'm writing and to figure out if this blogging will ever be my only public sharing of my thoughts, or if God has more in store. I felt I needed to document tonight, it seemed fitting to write about this unique evening and I look forward to stepping out even more into this world of writing... curious of what it holds.