It doesn't take much to spark off a train of thought that may lead to something I later write about. Not long ago I found myself musing all day about the fact that I thought the elastic was going in my pyjama trousers. It played on my mind all day until, at 4.30pm - that dead hour before the dinner needs to be started - I wrote it all down in a light-hearted blog. So it is that this blog today has been provoked by the very title I read every morning on the ACW website: More than Writers.
This phrase has been going round in my head in two different ways. First, it has strong overtones of Paul's famous exhortation in Romans 8:37 that we are more than conquerors. I have a Marmite sort of relationship with this verse. When I love it, it's because it lifts my spirits in those times when life presses hard and I need the reminder that God is the one - the only One - who can not only fight for me but stand alongside me when I'm in the midst of the action. When I hate it, it's because Christians seem adept at using this verse as a weapon against their already battle-weary brother or sister. Take the example of my former pastor's wife who berated me over not going to a prayer meeting because I had a kidney infection (one of the ouchy, hot-browed kind). Didn't I know I was more than a conqueror? she barked. Didn't she know anything about caring, never mind overcoming?
The other way that the MtW slogan has got under my skin is because I am more than a writer, but my heart's desire is to be only a writer! I am writing this blog during the heat of NaNoWriMo, a month where I have been busier than ever with work and family commitments and a whole host of other random pressures. Goodness me, if I were "only" a writer, I would be knocking out those words like bubbles from a kiddy's toy. 1667 words per day? Pah! Child's play! As is it, a typical day has been to start from near exhaustion, then embarking on eight hours of hard slog decorating a barn conversion followed by dashing home, showering, giving a couple of piano lessons, remembering to eat (if I'd remembered to shop..) then expecting my completely foggy brain to come up with scintillating action-packed story lines which my weary fingers have to bash out.
All that aside, life is what it is, of course, with its silly seasons and simpler seasons; its times of great inspiration and times of creative drought. And, do you know? I'm grateful for all that. I really am. God is shaping my life; He's not done with me yet. So I plough on, determined to conquer each daily challenge and to know that, yes, I am more than a writer. I'm a precious child of God, and that makes me a winner any day.