This week has been about the choices I’ve made and continue to make in my life. Writing is not necessarily a choice for me; it’s who I am more than what I do. The choice for me regarding my writing is how much time I devote to it and how much of my life it takes over.
There are other choices to be made however. Picture this: I am writing now at 9:53am. It the past 90 minutes, I have been to the grocery store, put together dinner in the slow cooker, emptied and reloaded the dishwasher, and done a little cleaning. In a few minutes, when I finish here, I’m headed for a walk. I will do two errands and visit with a friend this afternoon. At some point I will write more. Most days I write instead of visiting with the friend. Since I have kids, afternoons after 4pm are generally dedicated to them. Sometimes I write again after they are in bed. These are all choices I make on how to spend my day.
What’s my point here? I choose to write. I organize my life so I have the flexibility to write – working on my novel when I can and also writing articles for various publications. In the meantime, I take very good care of my family and the people I love. That’s what gives me real pleasure. Knowing I’ve given my kids a nutritious dinner or having a clean house makes me no less a strong, feminist woman than if I had gone out and toiled in the salt mines all day. Someday I hope my writing will bear fruit and I will have more books to my credit. That too, takes hard work and dedication.
For now, though, I’m going to celebrate my choices. I have the ability and energy to be a writer and a wife, and a mother – plus the myriad other roles I undertake. I even have the gift of time to reflect on these choices.
These are the things that give meaning to my life right now. The greatest thing about choices is that they are not set in stone; they can change as I grow and change. What a stroke of luck.