As I pad softly down the dark steps in the early morning, a light from outside draws my eye. Too early for sunrise as fall marches crisply toward winter and short days and all our needs felt a little more deeply– what is it out there, lighting up the early morning with its brilliance? And then, as I linger by the window a moment before turning on the lights and expelling the quiet shadows and the gentle brightness from outside, I realize it is the moon, full-glowing into my house in the early October morning.
Just the moon.
I guess I had forgotten how powerful a reflection can be.
I have been thinking about this blog lately, about its purpose and what I want to do with it. When I started writing here, I wanted to expand my audience and perhaps grow readership for a book someday. That was a big dream, and one that hasn’t come to fruition. I know the reasons for that– I know enough about blogging and gaining a readership to know that my erratic posting schedule and my lack of unified content are likely to push all but my friends and family away. If you want to be a successful, popular blogger you have to post daily and you have to consistently talk about the same sorts of things. You have to build an audience of people who want to know about whatever you’re offering– recipes, simple living, homeschooling, technology, decorating, whatever.
I don’t offer that.
Some days my blog is silly, sometimes serious. Mostly it’s lonely, waiting for me to come back and post again. It makes me feel guilty. I think the guilt is kind of silly. Guilty over a blog? But it’s there.
See, I think I have the ability to write well. And I enjoy writing. But I’m also pretty sure, if I’m embarrassingly honest here, that I don’t have what it takes to be a great writer. Because I don’t have the patience to sit down every day and write through the writer’s block and the paragraphs that refuse to be written and the distractions and the little voice that says “this stinks.” I start well, but I fizzle. And then I can’t seem to pick myself up again.
This is an ongoing pattern in my life and doesn’t just pertain to writing. It’s one of the main reasons I NEVER wanted to home school my kids. It is only by God’s amazing grace that we have gotten through as well as we have.
I don’t know what the point of this is. I guess– I have felt again the stirring to try to do something big, and I’m afraid to even start. I sit down and start to type and the cursor blinks mockingly and I give up and go check Facebook and look at Pinterest and read the blogs of real writers and play a game of Words with Friends and the next thing I know quiet time is over and so is any chance I had of concentrating on anything. It feels hopeless.
This is just me reflecting, and hoping that maybe these reflections are more powerful than I realize at the moment.
Like moonlight, streaming into my darkened home just before daybreak.