So, I battle writer’s block. Each morning, I sit in front of the computer….. blank. Words haven’t flowed for two weeks. I blink…… to force back the tears…. the frustration….. the disappointment.
My friend’s words echo, “You can’t do it all.” I’ve sighed with each blink. Doing it all….. ha. All hasn’t been done in a long while. And thanks to the sermon on Sunday, I worry if I am not spiritually asleep. I fit the profile…. tired, tired, tired. Then that makes my heart break…… ((sigh))
Yesterday was no exception. I sat here and stared at the screen. Nothing came. I grabbed my camera and flew out the door hoping that the heat of this summer morning would inspire me.
In fact, two minutes outside, already drenched, I headed back in to accept the fact words were not coming.
I visited those inspiring websites of other Christian women. Found nothing. I sought inspiration at the clothes line. God and I have so many good ideas out there. All I found was how quickly the clothes dried and how fast I got wet from the sweat.
This struggle so hard for me…..
I put the last clothespin on the line and walked over to the Diva Coop. There my girls are busy clucking and pecking.
Liz Taylor, the solid black hen, met me at the door. She is such a hoot to watch. She is the only one I have named so far. Liz Taylor suited her due to the performance she has everyday at the feeder. She lays back on her side and flaps her wing. She sends the others into the audience position. They watch and she performs until they have forgotten the feed and she can enjoy the feeder to herself. She’s good. Really she is…..
Before long all the girls have gathered near me. I wondered what life was like for a Diva Chick. Up at sunrise. Asleep at sundown. A great performance at the feeder. Then it struck….. much like my life.
I peaked into the nesting box of the coop. Found two perfect brown eggs. I sent out my usual, “Thank you, ladies” as I pulled out the two eggs. Another idea struck…. It isn’t the performance of the day that matters but what is produced.
Here recently, my “eggs” are cracked, malformed, and well, far from perfect. The thought of carrying on a plate several of my “eggs” shot chills into my heart. I can’t balance all those eggs on a small plate. They will fall and crack or break. Even with a basket, the weight of all those eggs will crack the ones at the bottom. Do I have a plate or too many eggs in my basket? Mark laughs at my big egg basket when I walk in with just one or two eggs in it. But they remain in perfect condition.
Something profound learned from chickens…… Again, “Thank you, Ladies!!”