Ideally, March would be my favorite month. It's my birth month. It brings the start of spring -- and the promise that another winter soon will be history. It's a time of new life, creation and creativity -- and hope.
Unfortunately, for me, the promise and possibilities of March have traditionally been accompanied by expectations. And what seems to follow expectations is disappointment. I'm still trying to rewrite that part of my life script.
All weekend, I've felt the urge to write. But now for the second time, I'm sitting at the computer and cannot figure out what it was I wanted to write. I know the topics: Point of Grace's new CD (No Changing Us) and cookbook (Cooking with Grace); a comment I heard yesterday at my 12-stop meeting that resonated (fear isn't in the driver's seat anymore); a comment from today's sermon (for God so loved the world that He gave); how I'm grateful to feel blessed beyond measure, to name a few. The comments or observations I want to make on those topics elude me. I guess they're just not ready to be expressed yet.
I keep marching on, trying to find myself and trying to quiet the voices inside me that say I wish I looked like that, I wish I could play the piano like that, I wish I could write like that, I wish I was organized like that, I wish I could sing like that, I wish ... I wish ... I wish ....
I know I need to stop wishing and start (or keep) focusing on doing what I do and being who I am to the best of my ability, without fear or doubt or intimidation.
I see and hear friends finding their voice, their style, their avenues of expression. For some, many years have passed before they seemed to become truly comfortable with such expression. That gives me hope.
I will keep marching on, in March and beyond.