Sometimes it seems like those melancholy midnight thoughts are easy to share and get rid of, yet those precious reflections on life and love are sometimes too precious to share.
Like the thrill of uncontrollable laughter between our five-year-old daughter, Kylie, and me.
Like the determination of Mackenzie, one of our 18-month-old twins. A determined soul with such a tender heart.
Or like the joy that’s the middle name of Brianna, the other twin. A born performer and comedian that’s often in a world of her own.
I live in this weird and wonderful world of my own making. I’m a teenager stuck in an evil town called Solitary wondering when I’m going to get my own iPhone. Or I’m a baseball player living in a motel room who can’t stop emptying out the booze in his mini-fridge. Or I’m any other cast of colorful characters I’m currently writing about.
Yet I’m also Daddy. And often times, Daddy doesn’t have much left inside to truly come to life. Yet Daddy tries. Thankfully, those little ladies don’t seem to know I’m only half there.
I know some of the reasons I love those melancholy posts, and why they seem to come easier. I should blog about those three little girls and how I see God’s face shining through each of them every day. I should share about how I’ve suddenly become the most emotional guy who can tear up at anything. I should share about all the blessings coming my way.
But the drama and the angst and the ongoing saga of a fulltime writer—well, that’s the journey, isn’t it? Those posts come more naturally.
Surrounding me are three constant smiles, hanging off the sun and the moon and the stars. I try hard to be a content person and usually I fail. Usually I’m freaking about something or other. But those little faces put me in my place, morning noon and night.
I was reminded the other day as I blogged about surviving the storms on the sea that Jesus told his disciples the following: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”
Sometimes it seems like I hear that every day. I’m forty years old and I’m still taking baby steps. Sometimes I really don’t have much faith. And yes, I can hear someone saying well maybe that’s what God’s trying to teach you.
Look—it took me just a few paragraphs to go all melancholy again.
All I have to do is look up from my computer and see three portraits of those little ladies smiling down at me. They’re good reminders. And good things to write about.
Labels: Author Angst, journey, joy, Ramblings, The Girls