Reviving A Comatose Pencil


Curt and I, young and pre-children, had moved and were getting to know our new pastor at our new church in our new city. We explained that we’d loved to involve ourselves, but were burned-out and needed a season of rest. This wise man replied, “Take time. Sit down. Be still.  When the urge to serve comes back—and it will—, call me.” 

While I am not overburdened with my writing schedule (cough, cough) the urge to write is back. It’s time to revive A Living Pencil. Beginning with a few random thoughts.

::        ::        ::

Has there been a decline in blogging? I think Facebook/Twitter/Instagram is to blogs what Walmart is to downtown boutiques. I find it oh so easy to post a photo to Facebook or write a sentence about the irony of including Man-Pleasing Chicken on our Mother’s Day menu.

The problem: so much content on Facebook (read Walmart) is generic and/or derivative. Most blogs offer a unique perspective. And most of the small blogs have closed up shop.

 ::        ::       ::

I made it through the toughest weekend of my calendar. The anniversary of my mom’s death was on Saturday and Mother’s Day was Sunday. I also remembered my friend Carol, (my surrogate mom’s youngest daughter) who died in January, and her beautiful daughters experiencing their first Mother’s Day sans Mom.

I never want to drum up grief because of the day on the calendar. No. There was no need for drumming.

But this is what I realized this cycle: I always—for 48 years—carry grief with me, deep in the warrens of my soul. But May 7th is the day I give sadness permission to surface. I give myself permission to acknowledge the wound. I think that is a good, even healthy, thing to do.


14 thoughts on “Reviving A Comatose Pencil

  1. Lovely to read your wonderful blog. I sincerely hope not all blogs are going away – those that I follow, like yours, offer life-giving words and ideas that need room to expand.

    Ah Mother’s Day – it’s an occasion for unfulfilled expectations for many. And this year, my own dear Mom is truly gone. I’ve been with her, these past 6 or 7 years, when her true self was just about completely gone, and I have cherished those times. But this year she is well and truly gone to Glory.

    Sunday the 8th of May became a day of honoring her in my heart, and giving myself a bit of space to well up and get emotional. To remember all that she did for me, meant to me, and how I miss her.

    My mother had the blessing of living many years with us, and for that I’m grateful. I’m sorry for your loss, dear Carol, that you’ve had so many years without your Mom. She sounds like a wonderful woman, and I your thoughts today resonate with me.

    • I wish I had known your mom. What I learned from her memorial service was amazing.

      I hope blogs don’t disappear, but I recognize that it is demanding work for those who persevere. I admire those who keep on, and hope I can add to the conversation.

  2. Thank you Carol for reviving your blog. Although I’ve never commented (I’m the quiet type) I’ve been with you for a few years. I read few blogs, there are so many out there that just rattle to be rattling with very little substance. I have noticed a slow down in the blog world but I don’t do social media of any kind so this was a welcome surprise in my inbox this morning. If I’m going to invest my time with a blog I like to absorb depth of thought that sends me on my way to enjoy my day and with book reviews to mull over or music to revisit or hear of for the first time. I also enjoy hearing of your family and identifying with the deep connections we all have to those we love. Your place in the blog world provides that splendidly. Welcome back. Enjoy your summer and don’t forget to take us along for the ride.


  3. Yes, there is a time for intentional and overt grieving. Please keep blogging. You and Donna at Quiet Life are truly the oatmeal in the blogging smorgasbord: warm and nourishing and wholesome. (let me tell you, I worked at that analogy. It might be corny, but no less true)

    • I’m not in the same class as Quiet Life, but thank you so much for mentioning me in the same sentence!

      I’m always delighted when a new Tuesday Prude comes to my inbox. Your writing inspires me to keep working at mine. 🙂

  4. Dear Carol, I hope this comment will appear for you. I am having trouble with my computer. It is so very wonderful to read this blog entry. You have been missed! Yes, as your new pastor said, take time to rest and relax, God will call you when you are needed. Our mothers are always with us, I do believe…seems like I hear my mother’s voice when I need that encouragement on down days. Their love was and is so special. Love and prayers, jep

    • hi, jep! I feel/hear the voice of my Mom, too, usually cheering me on – she was my biggest fan, a true encourager.

      Sounds like our moms are two peas in a pod 🙂

    • It’s embarrassing that I’ve waited 11 days to respond to this. But thank you for your words which are always encouraging. You have a special way of boosting your friends.

  5. Thank you Carol with all my heart for your closing paragraph. Resonated deeply as May, June, July in my family seem filled with a sadness that lurks on the horizon but is somehow not easy to ‘touch’. Your words gave the sadnesses a gentle voice. Also so good your pencil is reviving.

    • Thank you, Cynthia. I appreciate your response. I hope to write a bit more regularly. And I pray that you and your family are blessed in/through the sadness of this season.

  6. I fear this has been a rough year for you, Carol, and this past weekend was hard for sure. Plus, we are entering the life stage of recurrent loss which makes things heavier on our minds.

    I’m right there with you about the “comatose pencil” which is a perfect description. I’ll blog in my mind and even get notes down but have trouble finding (rather, making) the time to sit down and devote the time (which takes me longer and longer now) to flesh out and edit a post. You should see my dashboard: Draft, Draft, Draft, Draft, etc, averaging about four drafts to one post. Agreeing with your notion of social media dilution — it’s happening, unfortunately — the fast food drive-through is more popular than the slow-cooker home-cooked variety. And usually less nourishing. So, I’m glad to hear your efforts to revive the pencil. That encourages me! Hoping to do the same!

    • Thanks for your words, Janie. Recurrent loss – that’s a good phrase. I think the trouble we have with writing is analogous to the difficulty in sustained reading. It’d be so good to talk these things over a cup of coffee. I wish there were not so many miles between us!

Comments are cinnamon on my oatmeal!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s