Yes, it's been a while. I'm sorry. I kept sitting down to put something together and it never was right... my heart was never in it. I suppose it's a little bit like writers' block... only it's like thinkers' block. The problem is that when I can't write deep thoughts it's usually because I'm not thinking enough deep thoughts, and since I'm generally a pretty deep thinker, it's likely a symptom of something else. I go through these phases where I surround myself with a sort of emotional white noise. It's a bit like the air conditioner I run in the baby's room. I run it even on cool nights and bundle her up... because if I don't run it, then all of the noises around the house make it into her room, and wake her from her slumber. When I'm hurting for something, especially something I don't want to think about, I find myself filling my world with noise, tv, plans, chores, anything to keep my busy... I'll read novels and listen to music, and all sorts of great things, that, when shoved together without margin, serve to enable me to never address my real problems.
Even my devotions become tasks. I read the bibe... like a textbook, then I pray... like a laundry list, then I quit my devotions when I find I've been thinking about something ELSE for the last 5 minutes anyhow. This is not good.
So, my husband, who, historically, is never as good as I at sitting down and disciplining himself to have a quiet time, has been putting me to shame, carving out time in his day to read and pray and even journal, and I find myself guiltily buried in a book (But, it's a story about a MISSIONARY, my childish self is arguing!!!) That SOOO doesn't count, and when my husband asked for one of my empty journals (the most masculine I could find) to use as his own, I found myself reading some of the old entries... and longing to write again. So, I did. I wrote in my own private journal, and as I was writing, and praying, the floodgates began to open.
I hope, that, THIS time, I've learned my lesson.
Even my devotions become tasks. I read the bibe... like a textbook, then I pray... like a laundry list, then I quit my devotions when I find I've been thinking about something ELSE for the last 5 minutes anyhow. This is not good.
So, my husband, who, historically, is never as good as I at sitting down and disciplining himself to have a quiet time, has been putting me to shame, carving out time in his day to read and pray and even journal, and I find myself guiltily buried in a book (But, it's a story about a MISSIONARY, my childish self is arguing!!!) That SOOO doesn't count, and when my husband asked for one of my empty journals (the most masculine I could find) to use as his own, I found myself reading some of the old entries... and longing to write again. So, I did. I wrote in my own private journal, and as I was writing, and praying, the floodgates began to open.
I hope, that, THIS time, I've learned my lesson.
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