What I'm Doing When I'm Not Writing

[Which is all the time right now...]

Lately, I’ve been avoiding sitting down with a notebook and pen. When I stopped to ask myself, “Why aren’t you writing lately?” a tiny voice inside me responded:

The world’s problems feel so big
and my words feel so small.

Sure, I could unpack a bit. I could tell myself that my words matter, that small quiet voices added together make a great noise, that I have something important to say to the world. And while all of that is true, I just can’t bring myself to write about all the deep thoughts running through my head.

But good creative acts ARE happening. Here’s what I’m doing instead:

I’m teaching Shakespeare’s sonnets to a group of kids ranging in age from 10-16. I’m not an expert, but I can get kids excited about the language, about the rhyme scheme, and about playing with words. When their eyes light up with understanding, I know the hours of planning and teaching are worth every single moment of my time.

I’m exploring themes of feminism, racism, darkness and light with a group of high schoolers using Dracula, Cry, the Beloved Country, The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, and the writings of Langston Hughes. If this is not changing the world one class at a time, I don’t know what is. These kids are so in tune to the injustice around us and are so passionate about making things right. They give me hope for the future.

I’m spending hours upon hours talking with other mamas committed to teaching our children a widely diverse curriculum using good quality literature. We’re planning an amazing year next year and it is bringing me so much joy to share the load with others.

I am reading nonfiction like its going out of style. [Wait - was nonfiction ever really in style?] I’ve read about World War II and the Civil Rights movement; about trauma’s affects on the body and the healing power of art. I’ve read about The Great Migration, Christianity and climate change, and how to unite in Christ rather than divide over law. I read one woman’s story of adoption and abortion and motherhood too. I’m reading about how to write well, about the history of bookshops, and I even read about oranges.

I took my husband on an artist’s date, where we sat side by side and painted our own pictures — he painted an owl; I painted a garden.

I liked painting so much that I bought myself a new set of watercolors and invested in an online class from Lily & Thistle. So far I’ve painted a small bouquet, a bunch of dandelions, a color wheel, and a bumble bee. I even entered a piece in the local library’s Tiny Art Show.

I’ve been leaving the car at home and walking to the grocery store, paying attention to the robins digging for worms as I pass by. Remembering that God’s creation is so much bigger than I am. Trusting that in the midst of all the horror, God is present.

I’m investing in my local community. Sharing meals with neighbors. Inviting friends to church. Reading and discussing books. Tap dancing. The world feels really scary right now. Scarier than ever before in my lifetime. None of us are okay. So I’m leaning into the people around me, learning their stories, and trying my very best to be brave.