Writer’s Digest – A Confession
Confession. I have subscribed to Writer’s Digest magazine for over 5 years. I have read MAYBE six issues. Yet, every time renewal rolls around, I quickly send my payment. When the newest issue arrived last week, I hardly looked at. Still on the kitchen table, it will eventually get moved to one of the many stashes I have around the house.
In my brain, in the place where I take care of our bills and financial affairs, I recognize my continued subscription as poor stewardship. In my heart, I do get a pang of “I should read those”. In my gut, though, the magazines hold an invitational mystery and trust that the time for me to sit down and read (and write) will arrive.
I collect two things – Writers Digest Magazines and fabric. Until recently, I would have listed yarn and houseplants to my collection list, but I have shifted from collection to curation mode with those. I think that because I don’t have stacks and piles of lots of anything else that makes accumulating magazines acceptable.
Why collect these particular magazines? Because at least once a month, ten times a year, something arrives that reminds me that I love to write. And that there are more words in me looking for their way out.
Some leaders say “if it’s important, you will make or find the time for it”. I listened to that chorus for many years and allowed it to plow the guilt up so high I could barely see through the windows. I have almost given in to the belief that writing really must not be that important many times. Only recently did it occur to me that I could talk back to the voice that calls itself Wisdom or Leadership.
“Yes. And for twenty years of homeschooling, and volunteering, and parenting, marriage, and business adventures, I might have been able to find and make the time, but my internal resources were tapped out. With love and often joy, I was spending all that I had. I have taken seasons of healing and strengthening and rest.
So back off. It can be important and not have the time it wants, deserves, or needs. I have limits. I may be imperfect but I am the expert of me. And I replace your guilt with trust, I replace your shame with hope. I have done each day as I have done each day. Regrets and what-ifs do not have a place in this picture of facing future with curiosity and expectation.”
Maybe it’s time to move those magazines within easy reach. Maybe it’s time to create margin for intentional writing in my days. Maybe it’s time to let my voice be the loudest in my life.
Is there something in your life that the experts say ‘if it’s important you will…?’ Have you blindly agreed with them and let guilt clog up your connection to what you love? What can we learn from this place?
