My mom is sitting in the room next to me as I type, chirping along with the soundtrack to 42nd Street and deciding what to put in her 365 day blog project. To some extent, you could say we are in the same boat–both of us wracking our brains to try and uncover something particularly meaningful or worthwhile to offer the world–but I would venture to say that the scales of commitment, creativity, and hard work tip far in her favor.
I write words every day; something, almost anything, would suffice. This on its own, I have discovered, is more difficult than it sounds. There are some days, especially if I save the writing for the very last task of the day (those oh-so-rare occasions, of course), when there just doesn’t seem to be anything more to say. I know you friendly readers out there are almost infinitely patient–there are times when I wonder why anyone would take time to experience all the written parts of my life with me–but I still try to mix it up a bit. If nothing else (and it is more than this), keeping up with this project has been an exercise in my ability to whip an idea out of thin air and knock it into readable shape. Still, in spite of this struggle, I can assure you that my mom works twice as hard.
Every day, she brainstorms a photoshoot, captures an image, searches out a writing idea, and expands all of this into a slowly, carefully craft masterpiece. It is hard work, but beautiful and worthwhile, and the results are breathtaking. I don’t know anyone who reads her blog and doesn’t love it.
She has a resilience and a commitment to excellence that overshadow my own, I think, and it shows.
Anyway, what else is on my mind: it’s Good Friday. This day represents what Jesus did two thousand years ago to bring me into the Father’s love. He had kneeled and breathed deep, agonizing prayers, beseeching God that this redemption might occur in any other way. The thought that keeps coming back to me is how lonely my Lord must have felt–how his friends abandoned him, denied him, and outright betrayed him to protect themselves in some way. Still, he carried what the Father asked him to carry–with resilience, and obedience, and incredible love. He gave up his spirit.
God, let my heart always grow more grateful.
