a trip inside my head.

For the past few weeks I've had a nagging feeling arise every time I'm about to publish a new post. All sorts of insecurities start buzzing around in my head: Is this redundant? Haven't I already blogged about this at least ten times... and possibly as recently as two days ago?! Is this even worth reading? Such thoughts are at best mildly annoying; if left to simmer, I eventually become embarrassed at my self-absorption.

"I don't blog for an audience," I explained to my husband a few days ago. But after reading my inaugural post, I realized that the statement wasn't quite accurate. Frustratingly, I left the door quite open to however my personal blog might evolve. And it would be dishonest to say that I wasn't hoping someday I'd have readers other than my husband.

How utterly bizarre then, to have made friends from all over via the world of blogging and to suddenly be shy. It hardly makes sense- My blog is public! So I thought about it more and of course, there is another layer. It trails back to a quote I stumbled upon recently:

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘do it again’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”

G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Surely no one wants to hear the profound conclusion I came to while changing my son's diaper this afternoon. I change a good dozen diapers a day, and have been doing so for several years. Shoot, my own children will probably never thank me for the favor, even after I remind them of the all-important detail that not only did I change their diapers, I also applied rash cream to save their tushies from an awful fate.

The bottom line is that I haven't suddenly become acutely self-conscious of what I'm writing here. But sometimes... Sometimes I'm worried the monotony of my life will show itself for what it is, and that I'll be judged for it. My initial reading of that Chesterton quote felt like ice water being dumped over my head. Now, it is a warm reminder that monotony need not be something to fear or avoid. Imagine the Lord's smile, the genuine excitement, as He observes each day start anew! The thought instantly challenges me to embrace my own gray monotonous tasks in their true essence: Colorful, divine missions... small in appearance maybe, but each vibrating with potential to make echoes into eternity!

My children may never acknowledge the vital role their father and I played in their early days when they could not independently visit the latrine. But they'll have pages and pages of my honest recollections, stories to make them smile and confessions to confirm for them that I tried every day to love them by loving God who first loved me.

And for all of you, my handful of loyal readers and whoever else might be reading this- Thanks for sticking around, even when I got nervous and tried to run for the hills. Onward and upward we go, making the most of the monotony :)