I cry every time I read this piece, partly because of the content and partly because it was easily 3 am when I finally got it posted. I’ve just been run too thin lately. I’m getting ragged.
But here is my tribute, my explanation, and my encouragement, for the Mudroom space and my experiences there for the last twelve months. I won’t be a regular contributor this year, but I hope some of you will be. It’s a beautiful space, that fits a particular, beautiful and crucial need. You can follow their Facebook page right here: Mudroom Blog on Facebook
Here’s how my piece begins:
It was just over a year ago now that Tammy invited me to be a writer for the Mudroom. I had given her this passionate piece, “The End of Secrets,” and I believed very much in this idea, of a place for Christian writers to be messy. Also for messy writers to be Christian. And for all of to just tell a truth that is synonymous with freedom.
Today I’m getting this post up in the eleventh hour. I mean, like, the eleventh hour and forty-five minutes. I’m stretched thinner than ever, which is saying something as I’m a person who is often stretched thin. I’m juggling too many things, living too fast in a year of slow. I have to find a way to let the steam out.
For me, these seasons of too much always come up when there is an unresolved tension in my life. A lack of integrity, you could call it, pulling me tight between where I’m needed and where I’m pressing in. Basically, I feel “too much” whenever I’m trying to live more than one life.
The particular transition I’m bridging now has been a long time coming. I’ve tried for decades to avoid being like my mother, a homesteading and country living advocate who literally milked a goat on national TV. My mother was a force of nature. I’ve said this many times, but it’s always true. Her gifts and history and natural charisma were a magnet to me. They were such a strong pull that I couldn’t maintain safe distance unless I turned our energies against each other, to repel. In order to know myself as separate from my mother, I had to fight my way free.
The rest of the piece is here. Love from the yurt!