At the present, solitude is a luxury to which I am not accustomed. This season of life is compacted into the frame of homeschool and child-rearing. It’s what God wants of me just now. I see His imprint.
Yet, my fingers crave the slick edges of the keyboard and my brain wants to sort out the tangle of experiences and musings that lay just below the surface of daily life, as vital as the circulatory system in the body but unseen beneath the roughened exterior of the routine.
I can no more process life without writing (internally if not on paper) than I can live a day without breathing. But my children are more important, and if God has directed this path than He will help me discover the ledges of solitude along the way.
Maybe for you, it’s not writing, but time to bake or sew or scrapbook or shop or read. Each of us has a special luxury that, while not required for basic bodily existence, is vital to defining who we are. As Elisabeth Elliot says, anything can become a sacrifice to Him. And if we offer it out of surrender to His will for the day, surely it is not insignificant nor wasted in our journey of faith.