I've Used Everything You Gave Me

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “‘I used everything you gave me’.”

• Erma Bombeck

“I used everything you gave me.”  That is what I want to say when I stand before God.  I’ve been struggling with God lately.  Perhaps a more fitting thing to say is that I’ve been struggling with the Holy Spirit.  I define the Holy Spirit as the little voice inside of you that nags at you and tugs at you like a tooth ache that won’t quit.  You ignore it.  You put it off.  You deny it.  You bury it, but it always resurfaces.  If you ignore it long enough it will resurface in the form of illness - knocking you off your feet until you are forced to acknowledge it again.  The Holy Spirit has been knocking me off my feet lately.  It’s as if the Spirit is holding out a beautifully wrapped present for me and telling me, “Just open it.”  Yet, I’m afraid to open it.   If I open it, I have to “do something with it”.  Don’t I?  Aren’t I expected to open this gift from God and use it?  I argue with the Holy Spirit.  I tell the Holy Spirit that, even if I open it, I’m not sure what the gift is.  Really?  So, those goosebumps you feel when you write are not real?  They don’t come from the Holy Spirit?  They are not from God?  God doesn’t nudge you to write?  Then who does?  The devil?   

You see, I stopped writing because I believed that I should put my energies elsewhere.  I believed that it was absolutely necessary for me to stop writing and start putting things for sale on Ebay because writing is not paying the bills and  Ebay helps pay the bills right now.  I’ve always looked at my writing as someday being my source of income instead of looking at my writing as God’s gift to me.  Whether or not I ever make a penny from writing is of no consequence. 

Someone named “Anonymous” on my blog just told me that I could write about a cup of coffee if I wanted to.  I probably could.   A cup of coffee is something that so many of us crave.  We have to have our morning Jo.  Our créme de la créme.  We crave coffee more than we crave God.  Ha.  Ha ha ha ah ha ah ah ah ah.....ah ha.  Ah Ha.  I just had an Ah Ha moment.  Aren’t I funny.  Craving coffee.  Craving my cup o’ jo.  Where is my coffee?  I forget.  I forget a lot of things these days.  I forget to  brush my teeth sometimes.  I forget where I’m going or how I’m getting there.  I forget my underwear.  Underwear!  Under where?  I don’t know because I forget.  I wish I could remember the sunny days of yesterday but they are becoming foggy like my brain.  Brain fog.  Brain mist.  Brain dead.  that’s what I am - brain dead.  I short circuited - because, after all, I’m short.  Short people don’t have far to go to short circuit.  I short circuited my brain and now I can’t write anymore.  I can’t even write about coffee.  Annonymous was wrong.  A non o mouse was wrong.  A nan-o-mouse was dead wrong because I am brain dead and I cannot even spell annonymous!  So there.  I showed you.  I can’t write about anything - not even a cup of coffee.  Because I cant spll and its hrd to writ wen you cant spll anymor.  I cannot think when my brain is short circuited and I am brain dead.  

So, what do I do?  Do I resuscitate my brain?  Do I walk through the fog?  Do I unwrap the present?  Do I just say, “Yes” to the little voice nudging me to write?  I know the answer.  I would be killing my spirit if I stopped writing.  I must trust.  I must have faith.  So, for what it’s worth, the blog is back.  Somewhere out there I pray that the stories I post will touch someone.  I pray that the words will be just what they needed to hear.  I will continue to write because one day I want to stand before God and say, “I used everything you gave me.”