Like a woman scorned and done with dating, for like, EVER, was I done with blogging. Or so I thought…
At a conference this past July, I was becoming concerned because I kept hearing over and over ‘God wants you to write.’ I mean, it was a writer’s conference but still…Writing was my dirty secret that I kept hidden. Half-written books, notebooks of ideas, magazine articles, journals and stories were nobody’s business but mine. The conference kind of wrecked my comfort level when I realized it was a bigger pain to not do it rather than to just do it, already (kind of like stuffing clothes under your bed to make your room clean as a kid and then watching your mother get loco-crazy as she flings the clothes out one-by-one in an increasingly angry manner and then getting a spanking when you should’ve just cleaned it up right in the first place).
This is not my first blog. Or 43rd. It may be my 61st. Blogging is fun as long as you are having fun. When you aren’t…you repress passwords and forget how to log in and just go scrub grout or something that gives you a visible reward. I remembered the things I struggled with before…’Who am I to encourage anyone?’
‘I know you,’ whispered Shame in my ear, like a sister with her arm across my shoulders. ‘I see you,’ hissed Guilt through gritted teeth. ‘What can you possibly say to people when I know that sin you struggle with? Good girls don’t do what you did last week. And please don’t even talk about trying to be a good mama when you yelled at your kids getting ready for church just this morning. You can’t talk about what you aren’t. You will be a hypocrite.’
Ah, the world’s favorite word hurled like a stone.
A hypocrite is someone who pretends to have morals, virtues or religious principles. I am not pretending. I actually do have these things but as firmly rooted as they are…some days my sheer humanity is… overwhelming. But the older I get I know this is where the good stuff is too. The people I am attracted to and hold hands with…are real ones. Real is messy and wonderful all at the same time. I am good at being real messy. And sometimes I can even be real wonderful, too.
God has called me out this way…to write. Not answering God’s call bothers me a whole lot more at this point than the trouble it takes to just do it. Realizing this, I shrug off Shame and Guilt and instead walk, often stumbling, clothed with dignity and firmly wrapped in Grace’s grip which I can never wiggle out of no matter how hard I may try.
Everyone has a thing they are designed for, something that beckons to your unique abilities and background…
Is there something you are being called to do that you are ignoring or maybe you’re just dabbling in it (like me)? I find it gives you courage and clarity just to name The Thing. I’d love to hear your story. The world is missing what you can bring to the table.