Created to Create!

I have a terrible memory. Just pitiful. I attribute part of my memory problem to being a mother. Over half of my brain power at all times is being used to ensure my children are breathing, fed and not missing. A fourth of my brain power is diverted to living in intentional joy, not succumbing to the whirlpool of grief. That leaves a measly 25% of brain power to remember appointments, people's names, grocery lists, passwords to the multitude of internet sign on thingies. (See, I can't even remember the word for "log in.")
These percentages are based on full night's rest, mind you. Anything less than nine hours of sleep and all bets are off.

So it wasn't all that surprising to me when I finally buckled down and made myself finish an entire book assigned for our writing course, only to find out I read the WRONG flipping book.
How embarrassing! Unless no one knew I did it, right? Oh no, of course, I posted in our class's Facebook group asking why the author was a lunatic (I didn't use that word, because I assumed I was too uncultured or uneducated to see the point of the rambling book, but I tried to be polite in my question about the purpose of this man's philosophy.) When the teacher asked me what page number my question was in reference to, I began to panic and scrolled back to our syllabus which listed the author's name which I had NOT read. DOH!

Gratefully, she's the kind of teacher that will laugh with me and not at me, but I kept racking* my brain as to why that silly thing happened. Yes, I was in a hurry at our public library and happy to see a book listed on the syllabus that I wouldn't have to buy without checking the author's name...but for heaven's sake the title was the same and it did have to do with how to write...I vaguely remember having Thomas with me pulling books on shelves in the non-kid-friendly section, so I was distracted...remember my brain percentages problem??
So literally the moment I realized my mistake and saw that the book was SUPPOSED to be Madeline L'Engle's "Walking on Water," I ordered it via my phone (which has my stored password for book buying purposes=dangerous.)
I've only read one chapter and I can see myself buying it in bulk and handing copies out to anyone I happen to pass by.
I have never called myself creative. Never. This writing on my blog thing I've been doing for a few years, you ask?
Nope, not creative. Necessary.

Writing is necessary to my survival of grief and life.

 

And then this writing course happened. It's like God dared me to sign up. I feel dared to try and see myself in a new way...yes, maybe even creative. Also, I feel dared to apply myself to an elusive dream I did not know I even had.
Ugh. Apply. That means spending time. Working it out. Actually, putting fingers on the keyboard, not just thinking about it everyday.
Part of me thinks: Ain't nobody got time for that!
Unless, I accept it as a calling to do so. Unless, God is asking me to be obedient and do it. Don't ask why or where it's going. Just obey. I obeyed and signed up for a course that felt out of my league. I feel blessed by it and it's opened new ideas and created new friendships that I could not have imagined.
I've told people for months...or has it been years(!) that I hear Him telling me to obey and to write. So why is it so dang hard to just obey, right away?
In Chapter one, L'Engle likens obedience to the beckoning of creating. We can accept or refuse, however "because we are made in our Creator's image, we are created to create!"
 So here He is again. Whispering the same word I've been hearing for some time now...obey.

Fine. I'll try.

I usually don't ask questions at the end of my blog posts, but in this case I'm curious and I'll try it...how do you (or did you) find the time, energy or courage to obey a calling or desire in your life?

*Wracking or Racking? Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to obey if I didn't spend so much time looking up stuff like this for one blog post!?