So I'm sitting here. By myself. Staring at the computer screen. And I'd like to write about something interesting and/or exciting. And I want the way I write to be beautiful and I want people to say "Wow, she's such a good writer!" when they read it. Assuming there are more than two and a half people that read my blog. But I want to write for the wrong reason. I want to write because I can, not because God can use my mind and thoughts to convey something He wants conveyed. I find I have that problem when I write. Most of the time. I've been told I'm a good writer enough times that I should have confidence in myself. I really don't need to remind people, as if God needed my help to find a way to say I'm special.

I don't believe in talent, really. I do enjoy watching people perform those activities they are exceptional at, but I don't believe that it's just them. Whether one believes in God or not, He exists. And He gives you the determination to pursue something you want to be good at, if that's where you're meant to be. But this is a sticky area of talk and debate, because there are a lot of holes in my idea. Don't quote me, I don't read my my Bible enough to base the above idea on anything specific and concrete. It's just my opinion. Something that flitted through my mind and will disappear until a time when God will remember it and use it.

She was ordinary. She was extraordinary. She was plain. She was vibrant. She was subdued. She was passionate. She was both. At the same time.


She was a housewife. Mother of two, wife and lover of one. Both parents still together, living across the small town where she lived. She baked cookies and pies. She wore shades of blue and beige. Never too much makeup and her hair was flat.

She grew up 10 miles away from the house where she lives now. Met her husband in college. He was her only boyfriend ever. Her close knit circle of friends was small and honest. She graduated in the middle of her class. She read. Her singing voice didn't haunt you, or inspire. She wasn't an athlete.

She was a calm woman. Her actions and reactions were predictable. She kept an open mind and opinions to herself. She didn't leave a lingering impression; she took awhile to figure out. She was quiet, but well-spoken.

Ordinary. Plain. Subdued.

But how she could love. She cared for her family not because she had to, or felt obligated. She packed lunches, wiped sticky fingers, kissed scrapes on knees, folded shirts, made dinner every night, memorized schedules, rubbed backs, held sick hands, tucked in scared children, closed the closet door at night, found missing toys, and so much more because she wanted to. She had a desire to love and serve and express her devotion to her family. She wasn't bitter about her role. She embraced it. She knew where she was put, she had been placed. Placed with such thought and care.

She loved her neighbors. Dinners when someone was sick. Dog sitting. She asked what she could do for them, and she followed through. She loved the tired and rude waitress through her patience. She understood. She loved the man who cut in line on Christmas Eve. She accepted his rushed and agitated feelings. She loved the liar, the thief, and the fool.

Extraordinary. Vibrant. Passionate.

runaway

If you were going leave your home forever, for whatever reason, would you leave a letter? Or maybe a video? Or something that would explain why you were running away. Maybe you aren't necessarily running away from anything or anyone, you could just be leaving.

Who would you leave your letter for? Probably someone you love or care deeply for. Probably someone you think would understand your situation. Of course if you were really running away you'd probably think no one could understand. Would you leave your last words for your sister, brother, mom, or dad? Maybe a best friend. There could be people that you wouldn't want to see your letter. Maybe you care about them so much you don't want to think of their sadness at your leaving. So would you keep it a secret? Would you ask the receiver of the letter to never show anyone? Or maybe just a few people. You could want everyone to know. Ask to have your note published in the newspaper or something.

What would you write? Maybe some of your deepest secrets, or apologies for things you did in the past. Would you leave directions for anything? Or requests like "take care of my dog" or "please give Kayla back her pink shirt; she probably misses it." Would you actually say goodbye? Would you leave some parting phrase, or just sign your name? Would you tell a story? Something funny that happened, or something you'll always remember about the person who reads your runaway letter. Or maybe you'd say you don't want to remember.

Where would you leave this note? In your room? Possibly on your desk or bed. Maybe you'd hide it so only the right person could find it. Or you could hide it so no one could find it. would you mail it somewhere, or personally hand it to the receiver. Tell them not to open it until Tuesday or something like that. Then you'd be gone.

What would you take with you? Money, food, water - the essentials. But besides that stuff. Maybe a small gift from someone. Like a necklace from a special someone. Or a picture of your family, friends, or pet. Maybe you'd take your most prized possession. Whatever it might be. Or would you be satisfied with just memories and thoughts? Would you even want to take those if you had the choice? Would you try your hardest to forget everything? And would you succeed?

As you contemplated all these things and tried to think of the best way to put it on paper, would you cry? Would you be proud of yourself? Would you truly be ready to leave everything you know? Would the paper your sister or brother or mom or dad or best friend picked up be wrinkled and would the ink be smudged? How many drafts would be in your trashcan? How many times would you erase the wobbly pencil lines? Or maybe you'd be steadfast in your decision. Strong and dry-eyed. You'd have nothing to miss or worry about anymore. This would be your leap of freedom. And maybe you'd realize once you really had nowhere to go that you were falsely confident. And maybe you'd really be fine, because maybe the place you were leaving really wasn't healthy for you anyway. So you know leaving is best.

But if you sat down and attempted to write your runaway letter, could you do it? Could you really just leave? Wouldn't you miss someone, just one person? And when you thought of why you wanted to leave, would it be for a good reason? It could be. If you were leaving behind a corrupted situation. But maybe you were only leaving because you thought you could, or because you felt like it. If that was the case would you do it?

I imagine it would take quite a bit of time to decide.