Someday I’ll stop blogging. Tomorrow? August 17th, 2036? Maybe.
When I first started writing in this space nearly seven years ago I posted something new six days a week. Then I transitioned to five, then three, and now typically two days a week of new posts.
Nearly all the bloggers I know who’ve been at this online web-log writing for more than three years either make a lot of money through their blog and turned it into a job, or they aren’t married, or they don’t have kids.
My typical work day usually includes an item on my to do list of “writing.” It’s the first one to go once things start piling up. Just a few days ago I came home after a full day, and had dinner with my family. After we put the little one to bed I went to the kitchen to do the dishes. After I had finished my duties I grabbed the computer to do some writing.
But then a family member called. An hour later my one free hour of writing had disappeared. I look at my computer. Then I looked at my wife. 2 years ago I would have said to myself, “your longevity in blogging is 100% due to your discipline, get on it.” But that particular night I said to my wife, “I wanted to write tonight, but I haven’t seen you all day and you deserve more devotion than online ink.”
These days writing is a struggle. I ponder quitting. Nothing in my job description says I need to write consistently, but I still feel this urge within me. The problem is that the urge is squelched by more pressing and more important things.
I know I’m living well when many of my decisions reflect a theological principle. Writing for me is a reflection of the Creator God who spoke all of life and matter into existence from nothing. Writing is much the same. It is an act of creation where something is birthed from nothing. And it is hard. It takes time and effort and inspiration.
I may not write with the same veracity as I did 5 years ago, but I will continue to write because all of us are called to speak light into the great expanse of nothing, with the hope that redemption will follow suit in some capacity.
Thanks for sticking with me, even though my patterns have continually adjusted to match life’s demands.