There are days I sit down at these keys and I wait. Wait for the idea to come into focus. Wait for the words to crystalize and begin to flow from my brain to my fingers and to the page. Wait for things to come together the way they usually do. I suppose I am spoiled by the way things tend to come together so when they don’t, when I have to chase after the words or seek out the idea that was there just a moment or two ago, I lose my clarity. I have no idea whether other writers or even other creative people or neurotypical people experience this sort of scrambled thought process. But, for me, sometimes it is the way the writing process works and it feels a bit more difficult on those days.
What doesn’t feel difficult or challenging or in need of clarification or greater detail is my love for my two amazing teenagers. Even when my mind fights for the words and the creativity seems to ebb more than flow, my love for each of these girls is steady and as all-encompassing and unconditional as it is on the easy-writing days. Because unlike creativity and writing, choosing to love is pretty much an easy choice. As I consider the two girls about whom I write these words, I find my joy flowing through my bones. I sense the delight in my soul their smiles and their very presence inject into my days.
So it is today.
When life is bigger than me. When circumstances are outside my ability to direct or control. When my thoughts are moving around too quickly in my writing mind and the creative “muse” seems elusive, I rest on what is certain. I rely on what is true.
A couple of years ago I had a conversation with someone I’d known for only a short time. He was a confident atheist and as we sat across the table from each other, we ended up in a conversation that centered around faith—my faith. He had questions and I tried my best to answer them without relying on the all-too-familiar Christianese I’ve heard many folk fall into. I tend to talk more directly and deeply and vulnerably I suppose because I tend to talk more about my life and experience and the way God has shown up in my life.
I remember one particular aspect of the conversation revolved around the idea of hope, true hope, misplaced hope, the world’s idea of hope, and the idea of Christian hope. These are hairs some folks want to split in different ways and this is where rote Christianese terms trip me up. It wasn’t that I wanted to split hairs with him, but I wanted to help reframe why my hope was more than just an ambiguous idea that things will eventually be better or that tomorrow will come no matter what. I tried to put words to the idea that because I have seen the way Jesus has actually had to hold me up and comfort me in deep pain, because of the ways God has been faithful in my life before I know He will do the same thing today and again tomorrow.
These are not easy ideas to convey to anyone, and certainly not to an atheist who has an established and confident belief in the randomness of life and that hope is something we all experience because we all look forward to something, the next thing that’s coming. I don’t recall all of the specifics. But I know there is no way I can have conversations like this without sharing glimpses of my life in all of its broken glory.
I tried to explain that in the same way we rely on friends, genuine, true friends, based on their trustworthy behaviors in our lives in the past, I rely on God to do what He says and that infuses my life with a hope that goes beyond what I can do or expect. I don’t know that I changed much of what my friend believed, but I did take to heart his words as we said our goodbyes. He told me he hadn’t had such a good conversation, debate even, around the topic of faith, in a long time.
It is that same hope I hoped to convey to my friend that I reach toward today as I look for my words. The words today remain elusive. Even so, my love for each of my teenagers is never elusive. In fact it grows each day. I love the ways they come together to hang out. I enjoy the ways they laugh together. I love the contagious laughter that eases the scrambled bits of my thoughts. I love that they check on me, asking me if I am okay. And I am. I am because I trust God to meet me in the midst of these scrambled thoughts with His love and His hope and because I know that these two remarkable young women inspire me in ways I don’t need to put into words. It just is. And that is enough.