I was sitting by myself at the café, absorbed in my work, quietly writing and they passed by my table. As I knew them a little I nodded, and smiled. But they took that as an invitation and stopped. Continue reading “the uninvited guests”
I have a friend who works with women at risk. Her job is important and valuable, she is literally at the front line with women in dangerous situations.
I have a friend who is a teacher, she is educating the next generation, sowing into them and helping them grow into the men and women of tomorrow.
I have a friend who is a pastor, and as a part of her job she is involved in visiting those who are unwell and in need, in our community.
And then there is me, I am a just a mother.
See what I did there. I just made what I do less important, than all my friends.
Do you sometimes listen to yourself speak, and as you listen you hear your true heart and it surprises you?
I hear this in the way I speak. I talk about my friend who has published a novel, and then refer to myself self-deprecatingly as a “mummy-blogger”. It show me that in my heart I feel like there are many different levels of writing: the literature writer; the novel writer; the emotive and evocative writer; and the blogger. And I see a hierarchy in these forms of writing, with literature being at the top and blogging being at the bottom.
My novel-writing friend is part of my writers’ group. We started it to encourage one another. I know she would not see my work as less than hers. Yet I do.
This self-made hierarchy of mine does not take into consideration uniqueness. It also does not take into consideration my circumstances or my story. It is actually just a form of snobbery that I inflict on myself (go figure!)
But the reality is I am a writer, the same as my friend. My circumstances are not such that I could write a novel right now (too many interruptions). And if I’m honest, I actually have no desire to write a novel. Today I am knee-deep in mummy world, my story is about being a mother. So I continue to write from the place I have been given, and next time I say that I’m a “mummy-blogger” I am going to swap the self-deprecation for pride.
As I take my girls on the school run, I often see a woman walking in our neighbourhood. She is pushing a pram with her golden retriever trotting along beside her. I see her and I love the image, going for a walk in the morning with baby and a dog. And I think to myself “we should get a dog … that’d be nice”.