Partly because I am self-editing to a fault.
Partly because of timing.
Partly because I hesitate to speak truth; afraid my words don't matter as much as the words of every other. Or that I will say something questionable and lose friends. Or, heaven forbid! That I say something I will have to recant later because life has changed me and I have grown.
Everything about myself that I share leaves me trembling, both with conviction that the time is right and with wondering how it will be received.
I am human like that.
It matters to me to belong and to be heard.
It matters to me to do things well.
It matters to be able to reach out to people, encourage them, exhort them, or make them want to come over for tea and at least two slices of apple pie.
My stories matter.
And it has been hard for me to admit that. But admit it I shall.
For nearly 30 years of being able to read and write I have been watching, listening, learning, and waiting. And one bright-idea day back in February of 2013, clear as a bell, the call came:
"Write. Now. It is time."
It. Is. Time.
And a blog was born.
The words poured out faster than I could type, at first. But life stepped in and slowed it down. I knew it would happen, which is why I posted so furiously in the beginning.
But I am here to say that it is still important to me. It still matters. And I am here for the long haul, whether my words are widely read or not. I love it anyway.
So, while I breathe I will continue to write. Even the hard stories, as I am led to do so. I will have to check myself when the worry of what others think begins to creep in. Check fear at the door. It has no place in my life, now or ever.
I am happy to say that I have signed up for a writing class, scheduled to begin July 1.
I had been following Elora Nicole for a while, both through Twitter and A Deeper Story.
I've seen firsthand amazing stories from many bloggers who have been coached by Elora, and considered signing up the last time the course was offered. But I was hesitant to jump in, because I didn't think I was worth it; I didn't believe I was significant enough as a person. It took a lot of prayer and a good deal of encouragement from Josh for me to take the plunge.
The night I signed up, I knew I needed to. But first, I did the dishes; I scrubbed the bathtub. Anything to put it off. Anything to quiet this inner nudging that would not go away.
I told that inner voice to hush; I couldn't afford this. I didn't have time, because I'm so busy with three small children. But it wouldn't be silenced.
I think it was after 11 p.m. when I held my breath and pressed the button to sign up. I sat in anxiety until I got the confirmation. There, it's done. And I was so excited.
Then I got sick. And life got really hectic. And the doubts started chipping away at my confidence.
And I still even wonder sometimes. Will I get it right? Do I belong here?
So pray for me and for the writing community involved in this course.
It is a beautiful group, but life is messy and challenging, and many are fighting hard to hang onto this.
We are here because it is a lifeline of hope. And we need it. So, so badly.
So here I am, compelled to stay, knowing this is God's purpose for right now.
I'll take it slow and wait for grace.
Quitting is not an option.