Give ‘Em What They Want

This blogging thing is mostly selfish.

For much of my life I’ve wanted to have some sort of crazy artistic expression of what’s inside of me. I can’t draw to save my life and, although I’ve recently picked up finger-painting, my two year-old puts me to shame. I don’t let lack of skill prevent me from interpretative dance in my kitchen, but if I took it on the road I think I’d have about a five-year window before the children we prayed so hard to get would disown me. And, well, I’d probably lose friends too. Though invigorating for me, there’s not really a market for singing old show tunes.

So when I started this blog, I re-discovered writing. And even amidst the unforgiving schedule of being a mom, I somehow find time to write. When I write, I feel closer to God than I do most any other time of my day. I sometimes think He tells me to write.

I wouldn’t call myself a writer, I just am trying out this passion that’s been latent for some years. (Blogs are like open mic night for those of us who want an outlet for what we love. There’s a pretty low barrier to entry .)

But the only problem with allowing my newly-found passion to intersect with the world wide web, is that I am exposed. It’s sort of like standing in your skivvies before an audience of people and asking them to comment.

Well, after I published my post today, my editor (Nate) skyped me at my little getaway coffee shop to say “I think you should add some pictures to your post.”

Pictures of what? Me sitting by myself in a field, to go along with the descriptions of my encounters with God.

Of course he’s referring to the little brown people who have taken over our lives and have made both of us look way more attractive than we ever did before.

“Give them what they want,” he says.

My insecurity surfaces. Urgh …that’s right…I’ve made copies of the key to my diary.

I need pictures to make my post worth reading? I wish I just wrote always and only for the glory of God and didn’t ever think about who was reading this blog or what they might think. One day…someday, I pray.

Nate, when he reads this, will be grumpy because I’ve portrayed him as being a critic of my re-discovered hobby when in actuality he is my biggest cheerleader. He pesters me daily to write more.

So, since I couldn’t quite find pictures of the children that would fit with the last post, I will give you what you want now. Just in a different post.