I Got Nothing

What do you say when you feel you have nothing to say?

That’s the question I’ve asked myself for the last several months, and why I haven’t posted anything on this blog for so long.

Forgive me.

It’s not that my life has been uneventful. A lot has happened. Within the last few months all adult children and grandchildren have settled within driving distance, a privilege that hasn’t been mine in a decade. What a joy! Also, in January, my beloved father-in-law died just shy of his 98^th birthday. What a combination of grief and peace! Last fall I became a full-time professor of English at Truett McConnell University. What a privilege! All of these events have provoked thoughts and prayers, but I didn’t feel compelled to share any of it with my readers. I don’t know why.

In my first blog installment back in 2012, I admitted that this effort, this blog, was primarily for me. My catharsis. My relief. Sounds selfish, I know, but now I realize how essential it is to my emotional and spiritual health. I’m going to use it as an outlet again. Selfish or not, here goes.

I miss the new.

Yeah. After four years of being in a “new” season, the new has started to wear off. I don’t look at my life the same way I did in the beginning. The magnificent view of our surrounding mountain vista doesn’t make my heart skip a beat anymore. In fact, I hardly even see it now. The amazement I once had for the privilege of teaching college students my passion for writing is giving way to the daunting tasks of preparing lectures and grading tests and essays. I used to ride through our beautiful little town and get that warm, homey feeling. Now I take a less scenic back way to school to save a couple of minutes. I don’t appreciate the peaceful hamlet in which I live. The joy I once felt in the writing process is waning—maybe because I’m paying more attention to the writing mechanics I’m teaching my students. You know, sentence fragments—misplaced modifiers—active voice. Before I write anything these days, I have to make sure it’s perfect–grammatical. And when I do that, I’m sometimes tearing the heart out of whatever I have to say. So, I haven’t “said” anything for a long time.

Is that where the wonder went? In everyday tasks and familiarity? Is the adage “Familiarity breeds contempt” actually true?

Though I know that my joy is not defined by feelings, I also know that my lack of sensitivity to God’s fresh revelations can lead me into a desolate wilderness. And I’ve been there before…and I’m headed there again.

One of my favorite singers, Cynthia Clawson, recorded a song written by Gordon Jensen many years ago. I used to try to sing it myself but I never did it justice. However, the lyric has come back to me afresh. It has become my daily prayer. Here are the lyrics, in part…

I can still remember, the wonderful feeling, back when I first got to know You                                                         It seemed the world was mine, I had joy, I had springtime                                                                             But that’s all just a memory anymore

I guess I took my eyes off  You, Lord, but I don’t want this callous feeling anymore
Oh, please bring back the way it was before

Bring back the new again, I want to see You again
Bring back the way it was, when we began
How did I miss the road? When did I lose the glow?
And where did the wonder go? Bring back the new again.

©1980 New Spring   (Admin. by Brentwood-Benson Music Publishing, Inc.)

P.S. I just walked through my back door and the sweet “new house” smell hit me for the first time in a while.  That’s a start, right?