A Deep Down Itch

There is nothing more intimidating then the sight of a blinking curser. Except for maybe the sound of a blinking curser. It's a deafening silence. Especially when most of my days are filled with so much noise. I have three boys, four and under. Need I say more about the topic of noise? But now they are all "napping." This word is in quotes not only because putting words in quotes became a fad in fairly recent history. I think we owe that trend to one of T.V.'s most lovable characters Joey Tribianni. Was it Joey or Chandler? I don't know. I digress.

You're probably wondering why I am even staring at the blinking curser in the first place. Well, I am starting a blog. I am calling it Christy's Useless or Useful Thoughts. Actually I don't know what I am calling it but this seemed appropriate in the moments between now and whenever I give it a trendy (code word for chessy) Christian name like "Submerge" or "Imerge" or "Merge." You notice they use the word "merge" a lot in church or other church like organizations. Don't stop reading. I promise I will not call it that. It's obvious I need help. Please write me with your suggestions.

So here I am. I've been feeling this deep down itch lately. An itch to do something. Write something. Create something. It's the kind of itch that's in a difficult spot. The kind you can't reach without someone else to reach it for you. The kind that doesn't go away unless you find the nearest tree to rub up against. And so, I suppose this blog will serve as the tree to help satisfy the itch. I did try and ignore it at first though. I thought, I don't have time. Did I mention I have three kids four and under? Everyone that knows me has heard this excuse more than once. And look, I've already used it twice in this blog. I might have a problem.

So I was succeeding in living quite comfortably in my sweet ignorance until this morning. Until my girlfriend, who I happen to really like and respect, said to me, "I think you should write a blog." Of course, my husband has been bothering me for months to start writing but for some strange reason husbands are easier to ignore. Sorry babe, don't take it personal. Her words were the straw that broke the camel's back. The final gust of wind that pushes over the boulder perched a top a cliff. The final internal or external shove that propels someone to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Okay, the analogies aren't good. Don't judge me. But you get the point.

I am really doing it. Will anyone care? I don't know. Will anyone read it? I don't know. Will anyone start follow it? I don't know. Or do you say will anyone start following me? I don't know that either. No, it can't be follow me. That's sounds a little cultish and scary. You follow Jesus. Not Christy Fay.

This is my commitment. I will write. Once a week. More if I feel led. I will make a more conscience effort to listen. To really listen. And if, no when, God speaks to me. I WILL WRITE IT DOWN. And if anyone cares, great. If no one does, oh well. All I know is I have an itch. A deep down itch. And I better figure out how to scratch it because ain't going away on it's own.