Journaling

I actually sat down and wrote FOUR (yes, four) pages in my previously untouched journal this afternoon.

Thanks to Ruth and to Diane. Ruth for mentioning on several occasions The Artist's Way, which I need to take but urges the discipline of writing three pages a day to get into the habit of daily writing (from what I understand). Thanks to Diane for turning me onto Bill Holm. Today I simply could not hold back and wrote and wrote, then put the journal down and picked it up again, just to write more.

You have no idea how huge this is. I've not written anywhere except on this blog, which is edited for an audience, for three years. I journaled daily when I took a seminary class taught by Kathy Staudt called Spiritual Writing. I took my journal with me everywhere and wrote about lots of stuff, including a day spent at the VA hospital in Washington DC and the bus ride to get there. Also, during that time, I wrote a short story about a situation that the military put several of us in that was not complementary of the supposedly supportive military "that takes care of its own." My story's response was BULLSHIT! We took care of each other and forgot the military.

At the end of the class, though, T came home from his deployment in support of GWB's War on Terror and the writing stopped.

Hmmm.

Of course as soon as I sat down to write, T came downstairs and started talking to me. He'd been napping for an hour. I still got out 4 pages. I have to make the decision that I will not let him distract me, and set limits. I had to do that during the year I was in seminary and will have to do that now.

Hang with me, brothers and sisters.

Gifts from an Unexpected Place

I've been rather whiny lately.

Physical pain can cause that. As I told the occupational health nurse on Wednesday, "I always understood the pain of my patients on an intellectual level. Now I understand it on a gut level." For example, Taciturn was stunned when I walked away from him in the middle of a conversation a couple of nights ago as I had to take a pain pill NOW. It could not wait. I've had patients literally scream if I was five minutes delayed in bringing pain medication. I get it now.

But, in the midst of all of this, blessings are found.

One I mentioned above, which is an increased empathy for those who suffer. I'd thought that I already did a pretty good job in that arena. One always can improve, though.

Two, I have had time to think and ponder. Why did I get this? What is so out of kilter in my life that my very nerves rebelled? I have my ideas. Among those is the job, which I have been doing much more than usual, and the job--it sucks so much energy out of me even when I'm not doing it that there is little room for the things that nourish and sustain me. And, what, by the way, are the things that nourish and sustain me?

Trying to figure those out is number three on the blessings list. And in figuring them out, what do I do with that information? Do I act on it? Do I blow it off? And what else sucks the life out of me, and how do I respond?

Time and space to actually read is another gift. The space came in Taciturn's absence. Normally his financial shows take up the entire house where there is no quiet space to read, ponder, or write (yes, he absolutely loves Jim Cramer and his sidekicks on CNBC). But after he came back, he realized it would be inconsiderate to interrupt me while on the sofa reading a book by an author recommended by Diane. So he took his financial show watching to the upstairs bedroom. He didn't want to disturb me. That never has happened before. That was a very special gift.

God certainly uses ill for good. Of course I certainly want this illness to go away, but I wouldn't do without these newly gained or re-realized nuggets of blessing.