One year ago, almost to the day, I had intended to start a blog with this post, but several things stopped me: fear, anxiety, loss of confidence, the chaos that comes from having kids and running a household. I’m still haunted by those things, but I realize now there’s no escaping them. So, I’ve decided to embrace them and see what shakes out.
While I’m not the same person I was back then, my yearning to write has only intensified. And what I felt last October still rings true today, so without further ado….
Carrots, eggs, coffee grounds. Three seemingly unrelated things that don’t hold much meaning on their own. Well, aside from the coffee, which is my life line in this crazy thing called life. Today, though, they mean everything. I was sitting in the pew at church—toys, books, and the remnants of a ham and cheese sandwich littered around me—straining to hear the homily while at the same time trying to keep my two toddlers occupied. That’s no easy task, mind you, even on the best days. But for some reason my kids were unexpectedly well-behaved, and I think it’s because I was meant to hear this homily. The priest’s story went like this:
A child came home to his grandfather and said he didn’t want to return to school the next day because “it’s just too hard.” The school work is too difficult. The teachers don’t pay attention to him. The other kids make fun of him. After a moment, the grandfather guided the young boy into the kitchen. He filled three pots with water; added the carrots to one pot, the eggs to another, and the coffee grounds to the last; and set them on the stove to boil. After 20 minutes of boiling, the grandfather set the carrots, eggs, and coffee in front of the boy and asked, “what do you see?” The boy looked puzzled and stated the obvious. The grandfather suggested he look closer and then began to speak. All three faced the same obstacle, the same adversity—boiling water—but each responded to it in a different way. The carrots let the water overcome them and turned to mush. The eggs looked the same on the outside, but when you cracked them open, you discovered that the boiling water hardened them on the inside. The coffee grounds, on the other hand, changed the water into coffee. It worked with the water to make something good, something delicious. The moral, said the grandfather, is that even in the darkest of times, you must use every ounce of your strength to turn on the light.
I felt such a rush after hearing this story. I couldn’t help but think that God was somehow speaking directly to me. At that moment, I was the egg, but I so desperately wanted to be the coffee. And that’s when it hit me, this desire to write. Finally. I’ve been going over it in my mind for weeks, months even, but I just haven’t been able to find my rhythm.
I’ve been stuck in this depressing, self-deprecating, monotonous rut since early 2014, when my daughter was born. If you’re a parent, you know what I’m talking about. I had a pretty damn good career (not that I ever really wanted one, but I had one) and I gave it all up to stay home with my kids. Most days I’m OK with that, but more and more lately I’ve been feeling trapped and unfulfilled. How horrible does that sound? Don’t get me wrong, I have amazing kids. They are my greatest work, my dream come true, and a blessing from God. But I miss my autonomy. I miss editing. I miss writing.
And that’s where I find myself today. I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m done letting the water pull me under. This is my journey, and it’s only just beginning.