Last weekend, I wrote something that was a result of those thoughts, exhaustion, and a headache, lol. Not my usual chipper stuff, but there are some great lines in it. 😉
But I’m not that woman.
I would love to sew things myself, make toys for my children with my own hands, and fashion my house with tender skill and precision.
But I’m not that woman.
I would love to be the woman so proactive that she takes command of her own well-being, of her pregnancies, of her children’s health and stands up to the system when the system is set on following a pre-determined course that doesn’t allow for individuality. Who educates herself on every facet of her world.
But I’m not that woman.
I would love to be so focused on my children that I have their schooling all planned out, that I know already what the goals would be, that I could use my time toward their education. I wish I sat down with them every day and focused totally on them, on their growth, on their learning.
But I’m not even that woman.
I would love to exist in a world where I didn’t need a watch or a clock but could just eat when I am hungry, sleep when I am tired, rise when I am refreshed, and work when inspiration struck.
But that’s not my world.
I love being a writer, a wife, a mommy. Sometimes it just feels like I can’t be everything well. Sometimes it feels more like I’m defined by what I’m not.
I’m not a cook. I’m not green. I’m not crafty. I’m not a clothes-maker or a toy-maker. I’m not a teacher. I’m not a world unto myself. I’m just a woman with a dream and a family trying to make the two work together. I’m a woman with not enough hours in the day and even fewer in the night. I’m a woman in a world of squeals and tugs and TV–and of laughs and kisses and hugs.
I’m a woman torn, but a woman who can see the beauty in the pieces. A woman who sees that there are holes and recognizes that they’re just part of the filigree of God’s craftsmanship.
I’m a woman who isn’t.
But I’m a woman who is.
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Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.
Aww, Kimberly, you brought tears to my eyes! I am so blessed to have a full spectrum of beautiful, amazing, talented friends that I can love, respect, and admire. You really do inspire me–though I have to channel it into MY work instead of trying to replicate yours, LOL. Thanks for replying!!
I would love to have the skill to write believable characters with whom readers the world over are daily falling in love.
But I am not that woman.
I would love to have the clarity of mind that allows the stories in my head to flow out in such vivid and compelling pictures.
But I am not that woman.
I would love to have a sense of elegant style that was comfortable with classic sophistication, and wasn't all bound up with self obsessed notions of artistry and philosophy.
But I am NOT that woman.
I would love to be comfortable in my skin, loving the things I love, whole heartedly, and making no excusses. Taking life's necessary compromises in stride without the fear that they threaten my integrity. Presenting to the world a collected and serene face that rarely shows the chinks in my armor.
And I would love, when my chinks do show, to have the grace to share them with such warmth and tender respect for those whom I admire that I am loved all the more for my lacy construction.
Thanks for sharing!!!
Kimberly 😉
Oh, it's SO easy to get caught up in what we're not. I was at my husband's office party last night where I was once again reminded that I'm NOT a party person. I don't know how to pop into a group of women already talking, or how to walk up to a stranger and launch a conversation. Sometimes it's tough to keep in mind that differences are exactly that. Differences, not faults.