Just before Mass began I grabbed my phone to look up the patron saint of writers. Just made it. Phone back in pocket, write a note to myself, then get on with the business of being present at Mass. Today was the day to be distracted by every random thought. I’d start “writing” then come back to the incredible reality unfolding before my eyes. Random thought perhaps “I should write about…”
About an hour later sitting at my machine I look up and see a quote:
Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections, but instantly set about remedying them – every day begin the task anew. – St. Frances de Sales
who happens to be the patron saint of writers.
Over the last few weeks in prayer I keep asking God what I’m supposed to doing, “write”. Okay, write what? “Write.”
My sweetie went to the library and picked up a book that I’d been jonesing to read, The Catholic Hipster Handbook curated by Tommy Tighe twitter. So I’m reading it and happen upon a chapter where the Cool Saint is St. Francis de Sales, and with that this prayer, “My God, I give you this day. I offer you, now, all of the good I shall do and I promise to accept, for love of you all of the difficulty that I shall meet. Help me to conduct myself during this day in a manner pleasing to you. Amen” Okay Lord I get it, write, right.
I made a comment to friends last week that I’m going to hand-write this book. I honestly don’t know if it’s going to happen but I’m doing this writing to see if it’s going to happen. This morning though when I got home I sat at my computer and the words, and thoughts, were rapid firing. I finally yelled, “enough already! if you want to be written you can’t do this to me. I can’t hear you all.” This was enough to restore order in my head but sheesh. The handwriting stills my being enough that the words can come in order, or some semblance of order so that the whole makes sense.
I’m spending the days alternating between writing, and quilting. This is, finally, producing the fruit of more ideas specifically related to the book. This is the water bubbling up from the desert, a well spring of new life. It’s so amazing. Whether this is the writing I’m meant to do or not I’m enjoying this moment.
In all, there’s a good book to read, things to write, a “new” patron saint – who’s been inspiring me for a long time, and a quilt to finish very very soon.