Writing My Story

I  am laying on my couch in  my pitch black living room.  The only light is that of this laptop, and the only sound is the occasional rumble of a train off in the distance.  Where are trains going in the middle of the night?  And why can't it wait until morning?

{I am up way later than I should be up considering I am NOT a morning person . I will have to remind myself in the morning my fatigue is completely my own fault so as not to get too cranky with slow moving kids when clearly I will be rushing them tomorrow because I will be running late}

I'm all contemplative.  I finished school tonight for the semester.  I have completed one full year of school.... consecutively!  (If you don't know me, I mention this fact because 7 years ago, I went to school for one year and dropped out to get married and have a baby, like dumb 20 year olds do from time to time)  I'm feeling pretty proud.  Drop out.  Its an ugly phrase.  I was ashamed of this title, and whenever someone would ask about my schooling over the last 7 years, I would dress it all up with sayings like..."I decided to take time off." Or "I decided to make my baby girl and husband my priority."  Or "I wanted to be a stay at home mom."  Which was all the truth, but I wanted to be those things after college.  The truth is, I messed up.  I made bad decisions.  I dropped out of school.  I write this fully realizing that college is not for everyone, and that is perfectly and wonderfully fantastic.  But college was for me.  It was the goal my whole life.  I was a "learning lover" from the time I was 4 years old and started reading.  Nerd?  Yep.  Constant reader? Yep.  Good Grades? Yep (anything else gives me heart palpitations). So while I spend every year since my 4 children were born, fully, completely, magically satisfied with being a stay at home mom, there was a part of me missing.  I Mom. I Wife. Yep, they're verbs now.  But just because I am a mom and a wife and those things make me crazy happy, that doesn't mean that I am not also Mari, and through the grace of my God, the cheers of my children and the support of my husband, I Mari. I will continue to Mari because that is who He made me to be.

I want to travel.
I want to learn.
I want to graduate. 
Oh
how
I
want
to
finish
and
graduate. 

But here we come to the point of this tale.  My last final tonight was my writing class. The required writing class.  I distinctly remember telling the gal who sat next to me all semester, on the first day of class.  "I hate writing, this is just a requirement for me.  I have nothing to say."  I thought that I lead the most boring life, surrounded by family and friends who are so full of story and drama.  As it turns out, I am may be your average, every day plain (Mari) Jane, but I have a story.  Its added to every day.  It might not be a NY Times best seller type of story, but its mine, and darn it, I'm going to write.  I'm going to write so that I don't lie awake at night thinking.  I'm going to write so that someday perhaps my daughters can read and learn and live differently and similarly, and know me in a new way.  My life is not full of intrigue and suspense (although my dreams would be hit movies), but I'm going to write.  Because everyone has a story, and I have been under-valuing myself my entire life.  I have happiness to share, pain to share, struggles and laughter.  To twist a Veggie Tales song a bit, "Because God made me special and now I can see if I'm special to Him then I'm special to me!"