When I was younger I loved to write. I wrote stories. I kept a diary. I could turn my spelling homework into an adventure, so I could do homework and have fun at the same time. Somehow over the years I have stopped writing so much. Not sure why.
When I was younger I loved exploring. There was a steep wooded hill behind my house that my sister and I would explore every inch of and then decide the best place to build a fort. Or the best place to find baby lizards. Or the best tree to climb.
When did I stop exploring this way? Now when I hike uphill I just wonder why my breathing is so loud. I'm not even sure I would have the energy to wander around looking for good fort building sticks. I don’t think I would mind finding a lizard, as long as its not climbing up my leg. I remember all the good places to find the lizards, but they are not as easy to find anymore. Did they leave? Or were they not under as many big rocks as I remember? And as for climbing trees, I’ll pass. Too scratchy. And I would probably break something.
When I was younger, I didn’t think about all the effort it takes to accomplish something. I just went out and did it. Hiking up hills? No problem! Want to build a fort? Why not two? Hunting down and catching lizards? No problem! Even if one got away, maybe its tail would come off in the process and I could enjoy watching the unattached part bounce around until it was done with its spasms. Climbing trees? Yes, please! One time at a friends house, I climbed a tree until I ran out of branches to reach for. Then I just fell out. No problem. (That one hurt, though!)
As a child, I didn't have to learn to explore. I learned over time to analyze all that it takes to do something before I make my decision. I've learned to count the cost of accomplishing any task, be it something that needs to be done, or something I choose to do for fun. Now that I’m a mom, this also includes different things my children want to do or need to do.
Just to give one of many examples, my kids love Play-Doh. I hate it. While they are having a marvelous time mixing up colors (OCD alert!) as they construct, squish, and construct again, I am worrying about all of those stubborn crumbles getting between the cracks in my wooden dining room table and dropping onto my (gulp) carpeted dining room floor. And by the way, this has never happened for real in my house. Only in my imagination. That's why I haven’t even bothered to get my kids Play-Doh at the store. Because this stupid image is stuck in my head like the clay will be stuck in my carpet.
In many ways I believe it is wise to “count the cost.” Biblical even. Doesn’t the Bible say something about how a wise man counts the cost of building before he begins? (Yes it does! See Luke 24:28-30.) However, I would conclude that many of the things I count the cost of before deciding against it are things I should just go out and do anyway. No analyzing, no thinking about the time, or the mess, or even the money so much (although I am far from swimming in it!), just go out and do it! Even though I may be able to come up with a million reasons why not, I choose not to even think about them. Did I ever analyze like that as a child? No! If I wanted to climb that doggone tree, I did! I came off that hill so many times with scrapes on my elbows, dirt in my shoes, stickers in my shoelaces, and poison oak in various places. That never stopped me from having a good time! I’d just leave my shoes on the back porch and get the stickers out of them after I was done cleaning my scraped up skin and putting Calomine on the itchy spots. All that remains to this day are the memories of having adventures.
Remember how I said I used to like to write, but don’t anymore? Well, I’ve written this. And I’ve enjoyed myself! The thought of starting a blog fills my head with all those things I’ve just been encouraging any reader to stop doing. Who cares what I think? Does anyone really want to read about random wandering thoughts, ideas, and things I’ve been pondering? What if I can’t write regularly and never get a following? What if people misunderstand what I’m saying because I can’t put it clear enough? How long can I keep this up?
Honestly, I don’t know the answers to all these things, but I’m going to take my own advice, and just do it anyway. I’m writing because I WANT to. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Who knows, maybe I'll go pick up some Play-Doh at the store too!