They say if you love something, you must set it free…
I pause, and I feel the breeze flutter about me, cooling my skin from the summer heat, loosening my hair from its clip.
I stare at the plastic bottle of juice beside me, not really seeing the condensation pool on the table, for my mind is removed from this place. Music flowing through my earbuds inspires the words I need.
All else is muted.
The page before me fills, words collecting together as my fingers move over the keyboard in a rhythm. They pace, like the steady beating of a drum, slowing only when my brain searches for the right combination, then quickening again. Seeking to match the swift marching of the story in my mind. I can never seem to type fast enough.
And then, I reach the end of the scene, and I breathe. The clock on my phone shows I have been sitting for over two hours. I must rise, collect my thoughts, get something to drink, plan where to go next in the story.
Sadness pricks at me, and I wish I could do this more often.
Tears sting the back of my eyes. I am a writer. An author. And yet my stories sit locked away in my head, except the few that have managed to make it to my PC hard drive.
Because some dreams just have to wait.
People ask what project I’m working on, when I’m going to publish another novel. How it hurts to admit that I’ve set my stories aside! They are a part of me, who God made me. They struggle to find freedom, to express themselves, and yet I must hold them back.
Because now is not the right time to follow that dream.
“To everything there is a season, a time to every purpose under Heaven…” Ecc 3:1
Some women are content to live a simple life, but I’m a passionate person who cannot stay idle. God made me this way for a purpose. He placed many dreams in my heart, things that can’t be done all at the same time.
Like with stages of motherhood, career paths, or personal hobbies, dreams have seasons. They each have their own place on the timeline of our lives.
I know of one pastor who made a list of a hundred things he wants to accomplish before he dies. My list has less than fifty, and I have already accomplished nearly half.
So I smile, pushing away the moisture from my eyes. My stories can wait. For now, I focus my attention on my family, my church, my job.
And I’m okay with that.