So! The absolutely worst part about being a writer is you must write about everything. Talking out an issue doesn’t cut it. There’s something about picking up a pen, or even just opening a blank Word document that makes things make sense. I have -quite literally – had conflicts with those I love where face to face all I can do is stand still, stew, cry and be quite female. Then, after a stroke of genius and the ability to write out what’s on my mind, all the sudden I can make sense and be 200xs less emotional during conflict resolution.
What could make being a really strong avoider of commitment on top of being a writer even worse? The need to get people’s approval. I don’t know how many times I’ve created an amazing article (please notice the sweet humility) over what I’ve been processing because of people in my life and then shared it with someone. Problem is, this someone (whoever it may be on any given day) is a person who isn’t involved in the slightest with the original situation. I tell myself I want them to critique my writing. That would be a lie. I want them to read my side of the story, side with me, tell me that I have a right to be ticked and then tell me I write exquisitely.
Is anyone relating to this? Don’t worry, unless I’ve gained unknown groupies that read these random entries as a group, no one’s watching you smile or nod your head.
Today had the potential of being one of those days. God moved in a few ways and it scared me to death. Why? Because… Well… It required commitment, patience and *gasp* the end result meant I had to actually admit that I’m fallible. Plus, the end result involved someone I love dearly. And… No. I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to write about it. And then post it here and get complimented on it. …. And leave the dealing-with-loved-ones part of the scenario out of it.
…. …. …. The above 4 paragraphs were not planned. However, I woke up with an issue heavy on my heart and I started mapping out an article about it. (Seriously. I’m a nerd on a whole new level, people.) Half way through the morning, I finally shut up. And, shock upon shocks, God filled the silence.
He had one question that killed my inability to make sense of my hurting heart. All He asked was, “If you came to Me with your heartache with as much passion as when you write about it & then just trusted Me.. How much deeper would your peace be?”
Humility hurts. Realizing that you’ve allowed your heart to become an optional topic with your Lord hurts even more. Brokenness is good, though. If anything brokenness teaches you to acknowledge where your skills and talents can impact life… And it shows you where those talents can impair Absolute Truth in your life.
I don’t like growing up. It’s too much work. (Yes, I realize adulthood isn’t anything new in my life)