By the time you read this, my husband and I should have our latest adventure almost completely in the books.  

Another experience on the list of things we have for so long talked about doing “someday”. Until we reached this season (both on the calendar and in our lives) and decided, “Why not now?” 

Depending on how it goes, I might have a story to tell you next week… (Join me in hoping it will not have earned the name Rough Waters Part III???)

The logistics of the plans we made this week made it necessary for me to adapt a few things in my everyday life, including my normal writing routine.  My thoughts about how to handle that have run the gamut. 

I have two other pieces started:  Things I really want to talk about here.  Initially, I’d thought I might have time to finish one of those and schedule it to post as usual on Friday morning, even though I might be (almost literally!) off the grid at that point. 

I started on that this past weekend.  In fact, in the couple of days I still had at home this week, I jumped back and forth between working on both of those pieces.  Only to feel too rushed to do justice to the way I really want to share them. 

As my other option, I considered just letting it go this week.  Everyone takes a vacation, right?  Not to mention the fact that this is not even my job.  I never have to do this…

BUT: 

Last Friday morning, as I wrapped up the process of publishing an update here and sending the weekly e-mail off to subscribers, I said something that ended up replaying in my mind when I considered taking the “not my job” way out this week. 

It happened when my son brought Drake (in case you’re new here, that’s his energetic and much-loved 9-month-old black lab) in to tell me good morning.  For better or for worse, nobody else in my life is ever as happy to see me as Drake is. Every day.  Each morning, he seems to forget that he just saw me eight-hours earlier.  (Maybe it really is longer to him with the whole “dog years” thing…?  I don’t know.  But I digress…)  His morning greetings come packed full of so much love and excitement that I’ve likened receiving one to getting hit by a “short bus”.  That’s what it feels like when 75-pounds of muscle, fueled by enthusiastic affection and a good night’s sleep, comes at me.  Especially if I’m in a wheelie office chair.  With a laptop.  And a hot cup of coffee.  (Ask me how I know…)

We’d had a Friday morning near-miss with these circumstances before: My laptop got caught in the crossfire, and the whole mess almost resulted in the complete wiping out of my nearly-finished blog post.  Recalling that, this past Friday morning, my son had the forethought to yell, “Is your laptop clear?” before letting him rip in my direction.  “Yes…” I responded.  Then, before I could finish explaining that my coffee, on the other hand, was not in the clear - the short bus arrived! It brought with it a furiously wagging tail, a bunch of kisses - and hot coffee EVERYWHERE. 

Since Drake had played a key role in one of the stories in last week’s post, I took a deep breath and said to my son, “Well, I guess I can consider this the price of his royalties?” 

That piqued his interest.  He looked intrigued when he said, “Yeah.  Are you making money at that?”  Right after I finished laughing, I assured him that, no, I am not making money at this.  I also know him well enough to have come at that armed with the answer to, “Well then, why…?” before he could even ask it:    

“…anything you want to do successfully in a big way, you need to do faithfully in a small way.”

I spouted off that quote from Ruth Chou Simons like it was my job - because I think about it so often when it comes to the commitment I’ve made to doing this.  In fact, it feels so relevant to me that I even included it in my very first entry here.  

I don’t know that I will ever do this in any “bigger” way than I do right now.  But more and more each week, as I hear from one person here and another person there that something I have written here has mattered, I grow in my belief that this is big enough.  Making a difference to one other person is always enough. 

Even with that in mind, though, I did have one more reason to wonder if I really did just need to let it go this week: 

To make sure I remember that what I do is never who I am.   

I want to have strong guardrails not only here, but in all the places where I need them.  As I grow in my faith, I understand more all the time about all the ways I can let idolatry sneak into my life.  In the form of things that I once never would have recognized as such.  Mostly because for most of my life, that word felt like some really old weird thing.  Something that had nothing to do with my life.  Until I learned and realized how alive and well it really is, and that it doesn’t necessarily look anything like I once thought it had to.  Actually, it can also look like a lot of things that the world calls “good” and applauds:  Performance.  Success.  Productivity.  Relationships.  And scariest of all for me to see and admit, even in the way we can dedicate ourselves to loving and parenting our children. Basically, it can look like anything and any area where I might be tempted to seek identity, approval, or purpose before I look to God for those things.  I see those weaknesses in myself now, and I want to remain aware of them. 

So, in my struggle as to whether to make this happen or to let it go this week - after nothing I had thought I might do felt exactly right, I simply said to God: “If there is something You want me to say this week, please give it to me.  If I’m doing this for me and for what I want people to think of me, then please give me the grace to just let it go when I need to.” 

Then, just like that, I knew:  That is exactly what I was supposed to say this week. 

Maybe because I need the reminder and the accountability to maintain my guardrails; to help me stay true to my genuine intentions for doing this?

Or maybe because it’s exactly what someone else needs to hear, in his or her own set of unique circumstances, this week?

I don’t know why.

But here it is. 

…A few hours later, just before I sat down to write with this newfound clarity for the week, I got a message from someone letting me know that something I had written had mattered.   

That always matters to me. 

So, as long as He gives me something to say - and as long as I survive this week’s adventure - I plan to meet you right back here next week.