From Merriam-Webster Online

Sometimes life stops you. You think you can do it all, get more done, be everything to everyone. It doesn’t matter if there are too many tasks on your list. It doesn’t matter if you have a flat tire. It doesn’t matter if your kids have fits because this idea of a forever family is overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you are squeezing doctor appointments into an already jam-packed schedule. It doesn’t matter if you are bruised. It doesn’t matter if your husband has an increased schedule at work, so tag-team parenting is in its 9th round. It doesn’t matter if your head starts pounding. It doesn’t matter if your stomach churns.

Well, maybe it does. And maybe that list, although using the pronoun you, doesn’t really apply to you, but it does to me. And eventually I realize I can’t do it all.

And that’s okay. 

So even though I stay home and try not to think about how much I’m not doing, I’m somehow getting the needed sustenance. It is straight from the Lord.

It was about mid-morning that I realized this is part answered prayer and part preparation for my next writing project. I never thought a rough day could be the work of a writer, collecting fodder for a writing project. But it is. I’m writing it in my notebook even though my stomach still stings and my task list is still long.

The project I’ve been planning and am ready to begin writing toward a daily word count until the draft is down, isn’t fiction and it isn’t a professional book. I’m not sure what it is or what it’s about. Maybe a little bit on faith. Maybe a little bit on adoption. Maybe a book you might pick up when you need a little inspiration.

I do know the message, though.

 Before Tuesday I was a little afraid to say it aloud. I wondered if maybe it was rose-colored and I am inadequate to write a book with this kind of message. Maybe I haven’t lived long enough to say, even through the rough patches, life is meant to be celebrated. Compared to most, I know I haven’t even really had rough patches. I’ve been shifting through this message, wondering if it is a universal truth, or only something for my little bubble of the world.

It is not a coincidence that Tuesday happened. I was hesitant to put the words on the page, but I needed to test my hypothesis. When life is hard, is celebration possible?

Sure, it was only a day, but it was also a lifetime — remembering the hard patches, remembering my reactions are choices, remembering the way it feels in the thick of a fallen world. I was attacked on all fronts — professional, personal, mind, health, and faith. My world fell, just for a moment, and I was reminded I can still have joy when my identity is in Christ.

Today is a new day. Although I’m still feeling the residual effects, I’m empowered. I’m empowered to live celebration and I’m ready to commit to putting words on the page. I’m not afraid of this project any more.

I have you to thank. Those who left a comment or  sent a text or dropped an email or wrote a message on FB. Thank you. There are all kinds of ways to collect for a writing project. Once again, I’m reminded the writing process can’t be contained in a tidy lock-step plan. And writing is never a solitary act.