For many years, I felt guilty about having a calling which was not directly compatible with motherhood, i.e. being a writer.
Gerard Manley Hopkins writes,
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.
What I do is write; and writing is me. Focusing on my writing is following God’s will for me.