I used to be a writer. Words came out of me all the time. When I didn’t have a pen in hand or my fingers on the keys, my mind was spinning with things I had to write down as soon as I could. I once said that I wished I had a way to record my thoughts as they happened so I could remember all the stories, poems and prose that were formed there.
I used to be an artist. Not the drawing, painting, sculpting sort, but in my own way artistic. I used to create things and when I wasn’t creating, ideas were always there for something new to make.
I used to be fun. I suppose I still am sometimes but often I just feel old. And confused. And tired.
I watched a video a few minutes ago – a spoken word piece by a popular artist. He said that it is always the things people didn’t do that they regret at the end of their lives. He said we all have a gift and we should all be using our gifts. He said, “Sometimes you gotta leap. And grow your wings on the way down.” I love that. It speaks to me. But putting that into practice while I raise a family and do all the things a mom does is difficult at best. I believe that years ago, God spoke to my heart and called me to something. Something big but not specific. I believed then and do now that it centers on my gifting as a writer. If I based my belief in my gift on the number of readers I have here (one, maybe two?), I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. But it’s been there for a long time. Long before blogging was a thing. It was always my gift.
So maybe leaping is saying, “I am a writer. I am an artist.” Maybe leaping is not even knowing what I’ll find when I get to where I’m going. Maybe leaping is making a way even when it seems impossible. Even when babies cry and dishes need to be washed.