I think back to meandering the streets of London. One of the authors I had to read for my literary London class comes to mind. I can’t remember her name, but I remember her style. [Mommy brain, yes it really is a thing.] Her writing frustrated me. The funny thing is, it is basically how I write/blog too.
Stream of consciousness.
These are my opinions, seeking truth in an experiential biased world. I get aggravated that I write and publish. My idle hands can cause damage if I’m not careful. If I type and submit my thoughts into the internet abyss then I might etch regret. However, there is another part of me that likes this.
Here I am, unedited. My grammar and punctuation might be a mess, but writing like that represents how life sometimes feels. Occasionally you’ll pull out an intricate and amazing sentence. You will wonder how it was possible. At least I do. Most of the time though, what is scribbled is messy, confusing, and just plain indecipherable.
I like that blogs reflect who and what humans are.
We are works in progress. God uses people to carry out his plans. As the days, weeks, and years go by, we are growing, changing, transforming. We pray that we meet our potential; not that faith is by merit, but because we become who God made us to be as we bend our wills to his, that we are using fully the spiritual gifts he has granted us. As we revisit where we were and think about how to revise a sentence, we’ll do the same with a situation.
In the meantime, this is me slugging through. At times, we can’t work on revision because we don’t have time. We have to trust that the mistakes we make we’ll still be used for glory; errors we inscribe we’ll actually come out beautiful and help be a witness to God’s majesty when we surrender.