Sunday, September 14, 2008


1: punishment
2obsolete : instruction
: a field of study
: training that corrects, molds, or perfects the mental faculties or moral character
5 a: control gained by enforcing obedience or order b: orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior c: self-control
: a rule or system of rules governing conduct or activity

I've decided I need to be more disciplined in my writing, so I thought my first entry on this brand new blog should deal with the concept of discipline. I think the most relative of the definitions above is not the primary. I do not write to punish myself, but to train, correct, mold and perfect myself.

I feel the need for more discipline in my writing because writing stays on my mind. I compose essays, reviews and blog entries in my mind, not just once but several times each day. If I'm mentally writing all day long, it seems like I should at least take the time to put some of it down in a semi-permanent format. I do a lot of writing for work, but not much of it is creative in nature. With that writing, I'm trying to best capture what our ministry does, why it matters and, usually, why someone should give us some more money to keep doing it.

I'm hopeful that I'll be disciplined enough to leave work at work while I write here. I think the pressure on my heart to write comes at least partially from all of the reading that I do. I love to read (reading brings into play more self-discipline than discipline) and reading a good novel makes me thankful that the author chose to listen to their inner voice that told them to write. I'm not saying there's a novel hidden inside me, but unless I take some time to write, how do I know what words might come out?

I took my eight year old daughter today to the first major audition of her life. She's a dancer and desperately wants to be selected to participate in this ballet. I admire her. I admire that she is disciplined with dance. She dances three to four days each week and she said last week that sometimes it's just so hard that she wants to cry. That same day, she felt like she was on top of a mountain while she danced. I hope the mountain-top experiences keep her going back. And I hope that regardless of the outcome of her audition, she will continue to dance.

I am much more afraid of failure than this brave eight year old. I won't even give my husband the address to this blog for fear of looking like a fool. But that's exactly why I need the discipline of writing. I hope that as I go along, I'll eventually write something that just screams to be shared. My daughter dances everywhere - in her room, through our house, in the hallways of her school. She can't contain her joy in using the gift she's been given. I hope she'll always see her gifts as gifts and not begin to dance only in her room, where no one else can see her.

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