I've wrestled with writing for the past few months and thought about not renewing my WordPress account. I haven't written faithfully in 2016, so I figured it was time to stop blogging.
As I've prayed about it last week, several folks told me how much they enjoyed reading my posts. I was humbled by the comments and amazed that some came from folks I hardly know. God continues to bid me to write, and I continue to make excuses not to. I had to laugh when the girls began watching an old Disney show called "Do With a Blog" last week. They love the silly sitcom and so do I. Lillyann asked what a blog was when we started watching the show, so I explained it and told her I had one. She wanted to see it and asked me what I wrote about. I told her I wrote about my feelings. She asked if it was hard to do, and I told her it was very hard. She may only be seven, but she seemed to understand exactly what I meant. I love that about her.
I started writing for Lillyann in 2009 because I wanted her to hear my heart and know me deeply when she was older. Mylah came along in 2011, so I continued to write with both girls in mind. In November, little Kylie will join us on this wonderful journey. I don't know if any of the girls will read what I've written for them, but I do hope they will. I printed over 300 pages of the posts that relate to them so they can read them when they are older. When I showed the notebooks to Lillyann several years ago, she said she was going to read them when she was my age. I smiled and thought of how much I would love to hear my grandmother's right now.
Writing is a pain filled process, but like the deep tissue massages I've been getting over the past few months, it's pain necessary for healing. The peace I feel after I write makes the pain of sharing bearable. I don't know how God will use writing to transform me into who He wants me to be, but I do know that sharing the journey through my writing has been a big part of my healing.
When I taught, I urged my students to open their hearts and share their writing with others. I never followed my advice because I was too afraid. The Pollyanna in me preferred a happy face to a healed heart. I didn't want to burden others with my sadness. God placed a young women in my path yesterday who had the same fear. I met a friend at a small cafe to catch up and reconnect, and this young lady was working there. She knew my friend, and I heard the young women tell her that she was deeply sad but didn't want to make others sad with her dark feelings. I jumped in and told her she didn't have to make others happy. I knew not to say anything, but I just couldn't help myself. She told me sadly that it was her reality, and I understood completely. My plea was meant for me.
Writing is not for the faint of heart, but nothing else gives me the catharsis I find in the transparent honesty that comes when I share my heart with others. So, I'm renewing my WordPress account and trusting God to do what He does best-open my heart in ways that always surprise and heal. Living and loving as God desires isn't easy because it requires a level of faith I cannot reach on my own. I'm finding that the more I let go of my need to make others happy or be who they expect me to be, the closer I come to being the beloved daughter God created me to be. I have come a very long way since I began writing in 2009 and even further since I decided, in August 2012, to share my journey by blogging. I still have a long way to go, but inviting others to come along as I learn makes the journey a joy.
Thank you all for sharing the journey. You encourage me to keep going. The journey truly is better with company. That was God's powerful lesson this week.
Author GigiPosted on August 9, 2016 Categories Brokenness, Change, God, Healing, Love, transformation, WritingTags blogging, sharing the journey, WordPress, Writing2 Comments on Write On!
Mama died seven years ago, but I still think of her every day. She was, and always will be, more than just my mama. We were kindred spirits who understood and loved one another in a very special way. Mama wasn't like anyone else, and neither am I. Since her death, I've come to accept and love who I am. She would be happy to know that. She warned me about the hurt that comes with being different, but I learned that on my own at a very young age. It was indelibly tattooed on my heart at the age of six.
Knowing I am loved enables me to love myself just as I am and others as they are. Mama was trying desperately to tell me something just before she died, but she was too weak to form the words. I believe she wanted to remind me to just be me and not worry if others didn't understand. She understood that struggle better than most and knew I did, as well. I've changed a great deal since mama died, and I'm happy to say that my heart is finally wide open. I am free to be who God created me instead of who others think I should be.
The lessons of late have been about being who I am, loving others as they are, and letting the Holy Spirit do the rest. I used to think I had to be who I could never be and try to help others to be the same. That sounds ridiculous now, but it's been the underlying theme of my life. It may take a while for me to comprehend God's lessons, but I don't forget them once I do.
Mama's name was Mary, and she reminds me of a friend of Jesus with the same name.
Commentaries differ on the meaning of this story, but the lesson God has for me in it is crystal clear. It's okay to be who I am even if I, or others, do not understand. Mary and Martha are very different, and there is nothing wrong with either. The thing that is wrong in this story is thinking that others should be like me or allowing others to make me believe I should be like them. I can relate to Mary because I love getting lost in God's Word; not everyone understands that, but that doesn't bother me anymore.
I thank God for placing those in my path who share their love of God's Word with me. I could sit for hours talking about scripture. I know the dishes have to be washed, and I will eventually get to them; but when I'm in God's Word, I can't see or hear anything else. My mama had a sweet, loving spirit and was often lost in thought. I'm so thankful I am the same way and thank God for giving me a "mama spirit" that allows me to get lost in His Word the way Mary was lost when Jesus spoke.
Fear is at the heart of all hurt.
Faith is at the heart of all hope.