For the last few years, I’ve focused twenty-minutes most days on some writing project or other. That has produced a couple of novels, various magazine articles and some essays. A few of those have been published (and paid off in actual money.) Others are still sitting in my file drawer waiting their turn for revision.
This winter, we went through an intense season with Serenity’s chemo. I thought spending eight-hours a day in a chemo pod would provide lots of writing time. I was so wrong. All I could do with those hours was wrestle the dragon. And, since coming home, I have felt rather singed by his breath.
This week, I finally glued my deiriere to the chair again. And, I’m better. I’m better at my job, I’m better with my friends. I’m better for my family.
I think the same thing happens no matter what gift you carry. Rochelle is better when she dances, and Charity is better when she sings. I expect my friend Robyn is better when she decorates a cake, and Anna is better when she hosts a Get-to-Know-You night for missionary friends.
We’ve each been given a gift, a talent. Often more than one. And, we are better when we use them.