“If you’ve worked in good faith for a couple of hours, but cannot hear the story, good job anyway for showing up. Go have some lunch.” – Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird pg. 115
I opened up to my keyboard for another day of writing this morning. I strained my ear, pressed in with my eyes, stayed with it, and stayed with it … and nothing would come. An hour or so in I switched to my sketchbook thinking perhaps moving my pencil around on the page would open some things up. But there was more dryness.
I had prayed for help before I entered in to my work and got to it without a loiter. And I prayed as I went, but still nothing. I asked like I do everyday for a story, a place to enter in, a character (something!!) and still nothing has come but wanderings in faerie. At the end of it I cried like a toddler.
What if nothing ever comes of this? What if I’ve just been brought out here to die?!
Oh, wait. That sounds like Israel in the wilderness. That sounds like unbelief. That’s not good. No, I must keep trusting that God will take care. He may let me get hungry, but I need to behave like a well-weened little girl. He won’t let me starve. He knows how to take care of me.
And so what if nothing ever comes of it? So what if all is dry until the day I die? What if I never tell a story? Was having written a story ever the point? I turned to Habakkuk: “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.” If I never am given the ability to make squat I will always have the Lord, and that’s all I need really. He makes me glad with His presence.
I can show up. That’s all I can do. That’s the best I can bring–trying to be faithful. Produce belongs to the Lord.
I wiped away the tears on the back of my hand and got up to make some lunch.