Wind's in the East...

Wind by Gureu
Flickr.com_photos/francescobellu/3667357527.jpg
CC BY-ND 2.0

Wind's in the east, mist comin' in

Like somethin' is brewin' and 'bout to begin.

Can't put me finger on what lies in store, 

But I feel what's to happen all happened before.

(Lyrics, Chim Chim Cher-ee by Richard M Sherman & Robert B. Sherman)

Season's changing. The hot summer bids us farewell and autumn's settling in with his cool breeze, yellow,orange and rusty hued leaves, shorter days and longer nights. We've all been here before and we know what's in store, generally. 

I mean we can predict weather cycles, but not specific storms too far in advance. Calendars remind us of upcoming holidays, but not what will take place in between. We plan our days accordingly--check the weather, the calendar dates, our to-do lists, but when it comes down to it, we never quite know exactly how the day will start or end or what might upend us. I suppose that's good, or we'd never get out of bed. 

It's been a mysterious year for me--a year when the East wind kicked up a storm--compounded family crises (good and bad) found me spinning in every direction imaginable. I've been here before--handled years like this before--nine years like this, to be exact, but who's counting? (Oh yeah, me). I thought after that first year of suffering concussive syndrome symptoms for seven months, I'd be prepared for a year like this. 

But I wasn't.  This year I'm weary. Literally at the end of myself. 

For years, (nine years) I've been feeling like I'm never enough for everyone who needs me. And I'm not. This year proved it. 

Eighteen months ago, I was diagnosed with vitamin D3 and B12 deficiency. No biggie, right? but after a year's worth of healthy eating, bi-weekly B12 shots and a myriad of natural food supplements, I felt the east wind blowing and all the physical symptoms returned. Luckily, blood work showed my vitamin levels were fine, in fact way off the charts, but I'd contracted mono. Again, no biggie. It's treatable. Been here before.

The only treatment? Rest. Lots and lots of rest. 

Hey, every adult wishes they'd be ordered to bed, right? Yeah, but what happens when you're the main caregiver for two aging mothers, an active grandmother to six grandchildren whom you love with all your heart, a small group leader and an already a hard-to-motivate writer? 

Let. It. Go. and ask for help. 

Following the doctors orders, I gave myself permission to sleep. A lot. Twelve hours a day for two weeks. Nine hours every night the third week, and so on, until my body finally regulated to a normal eight hour night. 

And, you know what's amazing? While I slept, my mothers were well cared for by others, my family was flexible and came back to visit when I was well, and my writing...well...I didn't write, but the rest helped restore my creativity. Ideas flow more easily and instead of just scheduling archived articles, it's refreshing to actually write an original thought. (Thanks for your patience). 

Best of all, I'm learning that it's okay to not be enough for everyone. God is. That sounds cliche, I'll admit. But it's true. When I thought I had to run around like crazy meeting everyone's needs on my own, God's taught me that He is ultimately in control. [He will provide for everyone's] needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:17 NIV). So much more than I can offer. 

How about you? Is the east wind blowin'? Feelin' like somethin' is brewin' 'bout to begin? How do you handle the changes that upend you? 

When My Muse Won't Let Me Write

Finally, someone admitted it...no...an author admitted it..,they haven't the time for writing. Whew! And I thought I was the lonely, no-writing, wordless author standing alone in a great big room filled with word-swirling, masterpiece creators. 

I let out a great big sigh of relief when I read her confession on our shared blog. As authors, we were asked to share our everyday writing routine with the world (okay, not the world, just our readership). I did that once, two years ago, but asked to do it again? I blushed. 
Writing routine? What routine? Have you seen my Facebook posts lately? When would I have time to sit and write, let alone come up with some pithy, creative stories that inspire? 

You see, like my friend, life has pulled my bottom right off my writing chair the past fourteen months. Between caring for aging and ailing parents, grieving over loved ones passing, welcoming new grandchildren, playing with older grandchildren and tending to my home and husband, there's been little time to sit and breathe, let alone write. All these events experienced one at a time can send you spinning, but many of these events have happened either simultaneously or in direct succession. No sooner had I buried my sister, my father took ill; my father passed and my mother-in-law was admitted for physical rehab on the same day; they discharge my mother-in-law and my newest granddaughter arrived three weeks early. 

Life--all of its sensory experiences--is my muse. We learn, we celebrate, we grow, we move forward, we become who and what we are from life's events. But, when these events piggy back one another their weight multiplies and overloads our senses until the stress breaks us. It's difficult (impossible for me) to extrapolate meaning or inspiration from anything when stress rules. 

Lately, I've battled my place in the writing world; wondered if there ever really was a place or will be a place, because I've lost my way a bit. So, I sink into the worn leather couch cushion by the warm fire in my "Wicked Good" slippers and ask God what on earth he has planned. And you know what his answer is? Rest. Because out of rest comes worship. Out of worship comes creativity. 

So, I chuckle. Rest? Is it time? May I rest? Oh, please, may I rest my weary body and mind? It's been a long, long, long fourteen months of crises. The future is never certain, but for now I see nothing on the horizon. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Maybe. Just maybe I'll have time to sit and ponder life...the past, the present, the dreams...and write.

 God is my source. Worship is my rest. Life is my muse. What's yours?