Clarity

Sometimes we need to stumble a bit before the path becomes clear.

When I last posted in early December, I knew it would be a busy month. I had already bet on a full calendar and holiday chaos, and had taken on short-term work (unrelated to my writing). I figured I could balance it all just fine; I’d work, write, and be present with my family over the three weeks of winter vacation (which felt a tad long, I’ll admit). I knew I’d have to be careful how I managed my time, but I thought it would be doable. 

Friends, it most definitely was not.

Once upon a time in my life, I think I actually had energy for all these things. Sure, I could have been more realistic about what I was taking on, but my judgment was based on another, younger version of myself. 

As the weeks unfolded, my writing routine suffered. I am over a month behind where I’d like to be with my novel, and I went pretty quiet here on Substack. Not great, not what I had in mind…yet tucked somewhere in these dark corners is an opportunity for reflection.

Curveballs, bumps in the road, rough waters, whatever you want to call it—life gets rocky sometimes. My oldest son recently smashed his toe two days before his high school soccer team faced off with a local rival (i.e., he really wanted to play and really wanted to win). His toe looked hideous, and we worried it might be broken. It certainly wasn’t what he had planned either, but even he could see that it was nothing more than mild bad luck.

Something about the last few weeks has felt bigger than just falling off course, especially since much of my schedule is within my control. As the days tumbled by, I worried if I would be able to jump back in. How long would it take to get back into my writing groove? My life is no busier than those of other parents with kids in school (or not for three weeks!), yet the last month or so has reminded me that no matter what I used to be able to do, or what I tell myself I can do, I cannot do all the things. None of us can! 

And certainly, no stage of life guarantees time, so I need to make sure I’m doing my best to spend it well. With piercing clarity, I have realized that I don’t do well when I’m not writing. 

All this to say: It is up to us to figure out what we need to keep moving forward in this imperfect world, what brings sunshine to our days, and how we can bring our best selves to our loved ones and the world—as well as we can, anyway.

So here I am, wading back in, fulfilling my promise of an essay (or two!) a month by the skin of my teeth. And, of course, I will be diving back into my novel, which makes me smile.

I’m not there yet, but I will say this: Simply writing this post, my fingers zipping over the keys of my laptop, feels wonderful. With that feeling comes a renewed sense of gratitude for being able to make this choice. I’m still here!

As for my son, he rested for two days, then made a call at game time. Not only did he play, but the kid scored. As you might imagine, I wasn’t convinced at first—but he knew what he wanted and he knew what he could do. Piercing clarity, if you will. It was close, but they won.

Thank you so much for being here.