Wednesdays Are for Writing

Even when I’d rather be drinking tea and reading a book.

Even when there is laundry waiting to be folded.

Even when the dog would like another walk.

Even when I have a headache and the kids won’t stop talking to me.

Wednesdays are for writing even when I’ve already done a full day of school, struggled through Geometry (knowing that Anne Shirley is commiserating), talked about core values, introduced the critique, spelled all the words.

Even when I’ve gone to the commissary and gotten gas and hit up the library.

Even when I’ve taken the recycling and bulk trash to the curb, manhandled the children into chores, walked the dog, refilled the soap dispensers.

Even when I’ve run four miles in the freezing, pitch black dark, hurdling over huge puddles and fallen tree limbs, dodging heavy gusts of wind and untied shoe laces.

Wednesdays are for writing because Mondays and Tuesdays and Thursdays and Fridays are now for basketball. And that, of course, is because, frankly, we had a lot (and I do mean a lot) of kids.

Please note, I didn’t say Wednesdays are for coherent writing. Let’s keep the expectations low here. But at least this Wednesday was for writing.

It was also for joy and lamp light and snuggles and read alouds and cups of coffee and cuddly pets and text messaging snarky jokes with the Man. And the great news is that eventually this Wednesday will also be for bedtime. (Amen. May it be so.)

Next Wednesday might be for some of the same things. Your Wednesday might be. Or for something completely different. I don’t know. But this Wednesday, and many other Wednesdays, I’ve asked myself just to show up when I can.

Some weeks this means showing up to the hard stuff—challenging phone calls, therapy, driving that includes traffic or tall bridges, social engagements. Occasionally, when you show up for the hard stuff, it turns out to not be so hard after all. Except for the bridges. Those are just as awful as you think they’re going to be.

Some weeks this means showing up and then bowing out—like today, declaring Wednesday for writing even as I know this is only scratching the surface of what could be or when I leave the laundry in the dryer to fold another day or when I tell myself that a short walk with the dog is enough and the unmopped floor can wait for another day.

Some weeks this means showing up for grace and weakness and kindness to myself—saying no, saying not right now, saying thank you but maybe next time.

Wednesdays are for writing because every day is for knowing that I am loved, no matter what I do or how I feel. I am loved because that is Who God is: loving. And I get to let myself tumble around in that love, like a stone in the surf, maybe not going very far or making that big of a splash but gradually, slowly, tentatively, having my rough edges smoothed and softened.

Today, if your Wednesday is for showing up, may I just remind you: you are loved too.

No matter what the showing up looks like.