I think I suffer from blogging schizophrenia.  Some weeks the words flow.  Some weeks I’m empty.  Some weeks I’m good just to be good.  I feel like a couple of kids when one calls the other a name, “Am not” says one.  “Are too” says the other.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.

My emotions and thoughts are similar.  One day I have a plan to write; a book, letters to my kids, a leadership training program.  The next day, I just want to grab a beverage and watch ESPN and get lost in sports or find a movie and mentally drift away.

Why all this back and forth, fullness and emptiness?  Why is my faith big enough to leap tall buildings one day and small enough to cower in the shadow of a grain of sand the next?

Maybe I am schizophrenic.  Or, maybe I’m just overloaded.

Last weekend I was so frustrated because I didn’t clear my to-do list.  After thinking back over the list, I’m guessing it would have taken most motivated people 5 days to do everything and I wasn’t all that motivated.  Still, I kick myself for not getting it all done because, guess what, it leaves things to do in the future.  I don’t want anything to do in the future.  I don’t want to do laundry.  Or pick up around the house.  Or rake leaves.  I just want freedom.  Freedom to roam.  Freedom to play.  Freedom to be wherever I want to be.

It’s not hard to see the problem.  One, don’t buy a house with 125 trees if I don’t want to rake.  Don’t buy a house big enough for a family of 6 if I don’t want to clean it up.  Don’t buy a dog if I don’t want to worry whether it has enough food and water or will freeze while I’m traveling.  Don’t open multiple bank accounts if I don’t want to run all over town.  Don’t buy lots of clothes if I don’t want to clean them regularly.  Yada, yada, yada.

Every now and then I stop, I take a deep breath, I let it out.  Sometimes I repeat the process.  When I do, I get a moment of peace.  My mind stops racing.  The hamsters quit spinning the wheel.  Time slows down.  I just am.  For a moment, I rest.

I’m sure I need to downsize and decide whether to commit to writing or not writing but, whether I do or I don’t, it only affects me.  No one out there will quit functioning if I choose to quit doing something, to cut back on something, to eliminate something.  Do I hear myself writing this!?

Grace and peace.