I’ve been sitting here on my back porch for 30 minutes “working” on my next story. Daylight is coming. The ceiling fan is keeping me cool. The ideas in my head are scattered like feral cats around the barn yard.

I haven’t written one word until this exact moment. I know you’re tired of hearing it, but sometimes I have so much on my mind that I have nothing that I can put into words. Nothing that you’d want to hear about.

And I hate that. I hate the idea of throwing something together just so I can say, “I wrote a story today.” You deserve better. You deserve a story that might inspire your outlook on life. You deserve something lighthearted that will put a smile on your face. You deserve something heartwarming that might make you appreciate the good in this world.

Instead, you get a dribble of disjointed paragraphs that are about as much fun as a root canal.

You’re welcome.

One of the things on my mind is a funeral that I will be attending later today. Another sweet soul has departed this world, and her absence is leaving a gaping hole in the lives of those closest to her. Her wit was extraordinary. Her smile was contagious. Her faith is still unshakable.

Though gone, she inspires me.

On top of that, I read a gut wrenching note from another friend last night who is losing her husband to cancer. She is well aware that she has already spent her last Christmas with him. Their time together is not long, now. I can only stand on the sidelines and wait for Mercy to show its kindness.

This is nothing new. Life is full of somber realities. We all live with changes that we cannot control, troubles we did not create, and circumstances that test the true character of our souls. If that’s where you find yourself, I hope that you can find some strength in knowing that you are not alone.

I have been there, and I know that there is a Goodness that never disappoints.

But it’s hard to write when my mind is working on the big issues of life. I’m trying to solve things I cannot solve. I want to fix things that are never easy to fix. Most are not fixable in this life.

A lot of times when I’m feeling a little bit drab about life, I’ll play some music in the background. I’ve got John Cowan going right now. He has one of those voices that reminds me that some people have a true gift. Smooth. Silky. Perfectly pitched. Maybe the most pure and soothing tenor I’ve ever heard.

You should check him out. He’s got a long playlist. For fifty-something years, he’s been quietly mesmerizing his fans with notes that soar effortlessly above the rest of us peasant humans.

Though it’s a hard choice, he might be my favorite artist. And get this. He came from rock to bluegrass and Americana. I like to think that when I’m singing along with him in my head, as long as I keep my mouth shut, I sound just like him.

So, I have that going for me.

My other distraction is my “to do” list. A normal size piece of white copy paper sitting on the table next to my laptop. On it, in my handwriting, are two columns of jobs that need to be done. One list is for the house and yard. The other list is for the shop.

I tell myself that keeping a list is good for me. I have so many projects that are waiting for my attention. I forget things easily, or maybe conveniently. I can’t always tell why I forget, but I forget.

The list won’t let me forget. This is the purpose of having a list. The list makes me feel like I have some control over my life. I look at it almost every day and it gives me a feeling of being organized. Other people see my list and they are impressed with my savvy approach to life.

However, and this is important, having a list is no guarantee that the things written on it will get done. I have managed to cross off a few things in the last several months. But, if I’m completely honest, most of the things on the list have been on my mind for years. Maybe even a decade or more.

So, I’m trying to write, and the list is poking me in the eye the entire time.

“When are you going to get to the front door? The finish is weathered and worn, and the hinge side has a crack in the seam. You’ve been saying for the last five years that you’re gonna fix that. How about now? You just gonna sit there and pretend to write, or are you going to do something useful with your life?”

This is what I’m up against.

I’ll share a little news with you, because whether you know it or not, you’re responsible for the notice I got the other day. Word Press tracks about a bazillion blogs every day. My blog is one of those because that’s where my site is hosted. WP is where Georgia Bred lives.

The folks at WP have a very smart computer that uses some kind of high-powered analytics to collect data and to measure certain achievements. From time to time, they share their findings with us fledgling writers. It’s like a digital pat on the back when certain milestones are reached.

So, last week, I got this notice on my site. Cartoonish fireworks are going off. Party hats are swirling through the air. The note says, “Congratulations! You’ve reached 100,000 views on Georgia Bred. Keep up the good work.”

I can’t celebrate that without celebrating you. You are the loyal and faithful reader. You are the one who laughs at my crazy life. You take the time out of your important day to grind through my stories, paragraph after paragraph, line after line.

Without you, I might as well be writing to a wall. Without you, there would be no point to the story telling. Without you, I would have no excuse for ignoring my “to do” list.

Thank you. Thank you for being a part of the journey. You make it all worthwhile.

I promise you this much. Now that I’m done with this wreck of a story, I’ll get on with the rest of my day. I’ll give out some hugs and love at the funeral. I’ll take life by the horns and make something good of the opportunities that challenge me. I may even mark something off my list.

I’m not saying I’ll do it, just that I’ll mark it off.