the kids are playing together in their rooms

In our school district, it is spring break.  James is out of town visiting some family.  This happened to be the weekend where I had hours-long obligations every single day, so the kids have been passed off on others so I can get some stuff done.  The first and best day so far was when Shepherd went to daycare and Hazel went on a special outing with our dear family friend Aubrey to the zoo and other adventures.

 As I prepare to graduate from my masters program, enter professional ministry, and begin paying down massive (theology and ministry) school loans, I find myself grappling with how will I feel most satisfied living out my call.

 So while the kids were playing together quietly in their rooms, I read through a few of my previous blog posts, and was reminded how much I enjoy writing, and how much it assists me in articulating what swirls around in my brain and heart at 300 mph.

 I have always enjoyed writing, and can't imagine that stopping.  But the idea that it is a processing tool for me is intriguing.  How might I allow this practice to help shape what I am called to do, and how might I keep this as a practice in wholeness for myself? 

 For also, when I write, the chaos temporarily subsides.  I feel secure in where I stand, hopeful about my direction, and ready to meet the challenges of professional ministry.

 When the kids come out of their playtime, one angry because the other scratched them, and complaining that someone else (certainly not them!) spilled an entire package of bubbles on the rug, the chaos will begin to restructure itself once again.

 But I might be more grounded because I took the time to write this out.  To process a few fleeting feelings.  To share them with the best friends an introvert theologian can - the internet, and I might be able to feel the contentment that can be my chaotic life.

For a few moments at least.