But then the day happened, and when the sun had set, and I looked back on it, I hadn't written anything except my blog. That made me wonder. If I had a gift but never used it, would it be taken from me? I imagined God, looking down at me, at my wasted day, filled with nothing but chores. He looked back over the last month, where I'd accomplished pretty much nothing of note at all... and he decided he'd had enough.
"Cheryl," he intoned down to me, his voice resonating, "you've been a bad little girl."
"Yes, God." (What was I supposed to do, deny it? He was right.)
"Since you can't seem to make any time to write, I've decided to take your talent from you."
"No, please," I'd beg. "I don't paint much, either, but when it do it turns out pretty good still."
God thinks that one over. "Maybe I should take that one away, too."
"Please, no!" I whine. "All I'll have is my piano and my sewing."
"But you haven't done enough with those either. Or that theatre thing you do."
"Now, no arguing. You know you don't deserve any of it."
And I don't. I don't have a comeback for that one. I just rub my toe into the dirt, dejected.
"Okay, now, don't cry," God says. "I'll let you have them a while longer. But do something with them, okay?" Sounds just like me begging my son to behave for once at preschool. Does God know he's likely to reap the same level of effort from me as I do from my son? Surely, if he is real, God knows this already.
I nod, hoping I can make the next few years different from the last few. I hope I can write more, write every day, write stuff that's really worthwhile, ignore the online games, get the chores done faster so that I have more time for what's really important, and not fritter away what little time I have on useless, stupid things.
I hope, I hope, I hope. Will I change, though? Only time will tell. If you have any advice for how I can do this better, I'd love to hear it.