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My commitment to writing 40 Days With My Mother sounded like a great idea last week. As would any other intention I had which called for me to adjust my life and mind to stay the course during this season of reflection. A dose of discipline would be good for me. I am, by nature, a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl. Not always a rule follower. I don't like a rigid schedule. I prefer to plan my calendar instead of my calendar planning my life.

Yesterday, I had a moment when my Lenten practice challenged me. There are thirty-something days left! Do we count Sundays? Do we not? Why is there confusion? Why is there a different answer depending on who you ask? I doubted myself. Can I show up to my writing for the entirety of this time journeying through the desert? Then I thought about a certain someone who loves me with all his heart and one time lovingly told me that I do some things with 80/20 effort. Or was it 20/80? I guess it all depends on how one looks at it and many things he and I look at differently. I told him it all depends on how much my heart and soul are into something. My entire heart and soul are in my writing. It's what I love to do. My serenity. The thing that makes me the most content.

My self-reflection this past week has turned into a life-reflection without even trying. Funny what reveals itself when I allow myself to be fully exposed. While looking through my grade-school yearbook yesterday for pictures of my drama teacher, I decided to look for my eighth-grade photo. I had no recollection of it and couldn't tell you the last time I saw it. I expected to see a few pages of headshots of my classmates. Instead, I found an array of casual photographs highlighting students' personalities and interests. When I found the photo of me, I was dumbfounded. The more I inspected, the familiarity set in. One more look over, and I knew her. I have no answer as to why I was wearing a skimmer hat, but to see me with a pen and a notebook brought me home.

People often ask me if I've always written. My answer is I enjoyed writing growing up, then shoved it away in a box after college. I unwrapped the twine of that box when my brother died, and have been flirting with it ever since. At the beginning of this year, I decided I need to marry my writing. On Ash Wednesday, we exchanged vows. Yesterday, just a week in, I second-guessed my commitment. Questioned my ability to discipline myself in a way that is foreign to me. Can I do this? Should I stay, or should I go?

So I told my writing I have Her if She has me. We're in a committed relationship for goodness' sake. For better, for worse, on good days and on bad, through darkness and light, with confidence and doubt. Always, always with love for the greater good. I'm in 100%.

Dear Friend,

Thank you for taking my hand and holding me through the journey of the desert. When I doubt, build in me the confidence to persevere with faith. When I want to give up, strengthen my spirit to push through, and stay the course. When I search, place in front of me a reflection of Your love. For then, I will be home.

Thank you for journeying with me through the desert. I wish you strength with your intention!



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