Keeping Christmas

I could have posted many, many things related to Christmas this morning. It's difficult to find my very favorite passages or sayings or carols or prayers, so instead, I thought I'd share four things I found this year that I had never heard before. These resonated deep inside my heart this morning as I sat thinking about the mystery of Christmas and how to keep it alive all year round. I hope you find them as meaningful as I do.

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

- Charles Dickens

Expectancy is the atmosphere for miracles.

- Edwin Louis Cole

 

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with the flocks,
then the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal those broken in spirit,
to feed the hungry,
to release the oppressed,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among all peoples,
to make a little music with the heart…
And to radiate the Light of Christ,
every day, in every way, in all that we do and in all that we say.
Then the work of Christmas begins.
- Howard Thurman 

Not Only on Christmas Day

Lord, this is my prayer
Not only on Christmas Day
But until I see You face to face
May I live my life this way:

Just like the baby Jesus
I ever hope to be,
Resting in Your loving arms
Trusting in Your sovereignty.

And like the growing Christ child
In wisdom daily learning,
May I ever seek to know You
With my mind and spirit yearning.

Like the Son so faithful
Let me follow in Your light,
Meek and bold, humble and strong
Not afraid to face the night.

Nor cowardly to suffer
And stand for truth alone,
Knowing that Your kingdom
Awaits my going home.

Not afraid to sacrifice
Though great may be the cost,
Mindful how You rescued me
From broken-hearted loss.

Like my risen Savior
The babe, the child, the Son,
May my life forever speak
Of who You are and all You've done.

So while this world rejoices
And celebrates Your birth,
I treasure You, the greatest gift
Unequaled in Your worth.

I long to hear the same words
That welcomed home Your Son,
"Come, good and faithful servant,"
Your Master says, "Well done."

And may heaven welcome others
Who will join with me in praise
Because I lived for Jesus Christ
Not only Christmas Day
- Mary Fairchild

The Heart of Christmas

Yesterday, I felt like a breath of fresh air swept through my stale heart and gave it new vitality. For the past several weeks, I had been feeling a little confused as to how to go about celebrating Christmas the "right" way. Now that Joey and I have a family of our own, little as it may be, I am even more aware of the folly that surrounds us during Christmas, how somewhere along the line the real reason for Christmas was hijacked by folks who saw an opportunity to make a dime. And now, all around me, I see kids with a sense of entitlement, kids who throw fits over getting the biggest, best, newest thing the world has to offer.  I'm left wondering what we will do to celebrate it, how we'll be able to raise kids without this sort of attitude, and whether we'll be able to somehow honor Christ in the midst of it all.

I have seen several blog posts discussing exactly this idea lately, and it seems that many folks are determined to set things right in their homes and basically shun anything remotely "of the world." But as I read the articles, I started feeling like a loser of a mom because not only was I exited for Addie to get to experience Christmas for real for the first time, but I also felt like a million people out there in blog land were somehow judging me for welcoming Christmastime with a fire burning the fire place and scented candles filling the room with the sweet smell of Christmas while Joey and I decorated our tree as "It's a Wonderful Life" was playing in the background.

But yesterday, it was as though our Pastor's message let me off the worry hook and gave me permission to celebrate with all the merriment that the season has to offer. He brought a bit of this merriment I'm talking about into  the service because he said that it is, after all,"the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." He showed a clip of his favorite rendition of this very song, a rendition done by none other than the Muppets. It was easy to see that Pastor was in a festive mood, thoroughly enjoying celebrating the season, but as soon as the music died down and the congregation began to settle in for the sermon, he posed this question (as if he instinctively knew there was someone in the back row sitting next to Joey and I who were vocally questioning his judgement): He asked, "So why do we have things like this at church?" He then explained, "The reason we do stuff like that around here is to offend as many religious spirits as possible. Don't get me wrong -- we're a deeply spiritual church. We're just not very religious." He went on to give a powerful message about how at the heart of Christmas is a celebration of the most wonderful gift that was ever given to humanity--the gift of the saving grace found in the Christ-child. Since we're celebrating that this season, shouldn't we be merry, be festive, and have a wonderful Christmastime?

Perhaps that's the distinction I'm trying to make in my own life as I think about what sorts of things to cut out of as well as include in our Christmas celebrations, the difference between what's religious and what's spiritual. If I don't put up a Christmas tree, if I refuse to sing Jingle Bells, if I never give another gift at Christmas -- does that make me any more spiritual than if I do? Maybe. Or maybe I would be doing it out of a religious heart, not a spiritual heart. I think in the end it comes down to the condition and motivation of my heart. 1 Samuel 16:7 says this:

The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. 

People judge by outward appearance, 

but the Lord looks at the heart.

(The Message)

I think this verse holds the answer for how to celebrate Christmas, how to weigh what's important versus what's not important, and how to make what could otherwise seem trivial carry deep significance.  So, after I thought long and hard about all this today, I made a decision. Instead of feeling guilty for celebrating the way I do, instead of being overly concerned with what people might think of my choices, and instead of feeling the push to buy more, do more, or be more during these last few days before the 25th, I'm going to focus instead on the condition of my heart, my motivations for my actions, and most importantly, on the greatest Gift anyone has ever been given. And I suspect I'm going to have an awful lot of fun doing so.

I sincerely hope you will join me.

On Creativity

There are so many smart people with incredible things to say out there, and when I stumble upon them (online or otherwise), I'm enriched, challenged, inspired.

This week I seemed to stumble upon things concerned with creativity. Not a big surprise; that's pretty much what's been on my mind and in my heart for the past several weeks. Here are my favorites:

1. Jon Acuff's blog is quickly becoming one of my favorite reads. Check out this post on recognizing our own talent here. As a bonus, there's a short video at the end of the post called "Obvious to You. Amazing to Others" by Derek Sivers that got me thinking in a new way about my own self-doubt. After you read/watch that one, here's a great one on ways to stay creative. A challenge, to say the least, but one worth trying, I think.

2. This post about creativity by Kath Cunningham, author of The Long Walk Home blog. She's from the UK, so her perspective is a bit different from those of us in the US, but her ideas and her heart are in sync with my own, and I love reading what she has to say.
 

3. Procrastination. It's not a word I like to use much. In fact, I sort of cringe at it. Not for reasons you'd think, though. It's not because I am overly efficient, am always early, or am even particularly organized. I don't like it because I don't like that it's true about myself. But this video helped me think differently about procrastination this week, and (shock!) I've actually gotten things done. See it on YouTube here.

Self-doubt and Creativity

Are "real artists," the painters, musicians, actors, play writes, novelists, or any number of other artsy occupations - are these the only people who are able to be creative? Are they the only ones who are capable of harnessing creativity and turning their inspiration into something tangible, something that can be seen and appreciated by others? 

I used to think so. I used to think that creativity was something only a select few were blessed with, as if it were a gift that God gave to only some people and not others. Now, though, I think that He has given us all the ability to create because He made us in His own image, and if he's the Creator, and we are made in his image, wouldn't that mean that we are given ability to create?

My husband has a talent for drawing beautiful, realistic pictures, but I have a hard time making stick figures look good. My brothers can play the drums and the guitar with abandon (having essentially taught themselves to do so), I can't play a single instrument. My father can envision a finished stage production well before he actually puts the cast together, I had a hard time putting together informal skits at junior high camp. My mom loves to sing, and she probably will until she breathes her last breath. Me? I'm certainly not a professional vocalist.

But you know what? That doesn't mean I'm not creative. I've learned that I am creative in different ways, ways in which the people I'm close to aren't creative. Because I'm different from them, I ended up misunderstanding creativity, and I let self-doubt suppress whatever urge to create I actually did have. 

I know I'm not alone. It seems to me that the most authentically creative people always battle with self-doubt, but it's when they kick it to the curb and do the work anyway that the genius begins to emerge. 

Here are a few thoughts and ideas about creativity that have helped shape my perspective, and I hope they make you think a little bit differently about whatever kind of creative passion you happen to have in your life. 

Everything in life is writable about 

if you have the outgoing guts to do it, 

and the imagination to improvise.  

 The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

- Sylvia Plath

A hunch is creativity trying to tell you something. 

- Frank Capra

"Creativity is merely a plus name for regular activity. 

Any activity becomes creative 

when the doer cares about doing it right, or better.

- John Updike

Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. 

It's self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. 

You can't try to do things. You simply must do things.

- Ray Bradbury

I believe that an artist working for 

and representing the Kingdom of God 

should do the best of their ability to show and prove 

the depth, life, newness, creativity, truth, 

and excitement of their Heavenly Father 

through the work that is set before them.

- Daniel Smith

A New Start

Well friends, the time has come to let you in on a little secret project I've been working on. It's still in its infancy; the things that are posted there aren't well-developed yet and the new blog site doesn't have much of a collection of posts, but hey - it's started. And for me these days, that's a feat.

I'm working and writing in a new place, a place that will be similar to this place (in that it will be me doing the writing), but it is a place where (hopefully) my writing will be a bit more focused.  The blog was inspired by Philippians 2:15, which says this:

"Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night..." (The Message)

When I started the project, it was a collaboration between myself and Sam Inman (who I'm sure most of you know), who asked me if I would start blogging for Harbor Light, specifically. Posed with this question, I immediately felt intimidated and flooded with more self-doubt than perhaps I've ever really felt. And yet, despite all that, I found myself excited and ready to take on the challenge.

And then, my excitement turned into dread as I began to research blogs that had a similar "feel" to the one that I was beginning to envision. I felt like anything I did would just be a copy of someone else's work, or worse, that I wouldn't be able to make myself seem like I had any right to say anything at all, as if  I couldn't fit my voice into an authoritative box.

So I didn't work on it for months. And I've been away from this blog for over two months as well. Fearing I had nothing of worth to say, I didn't say anything at all. (A self-fulfilling prophecy indeed.)

But little by little, ideas came. As I forced myself to write, I discovered a reason to write again.

Something that helped me was a blurb about being creative that I read not long ago, a quote which now I can't remember exactly (or at all), and I can't even remember who said it. But I remember the main point of it, which goes something like this:

Don't create art that you think people want to see, hear, read, etc. Instead, create what's in your heart. Say your words, your way. Be authentic. Be artistic in your own way, and risk not having anyone notice. Before you know it, people will.

And so friends, I'm risking doing something new for the sake of being authentic. If you want to check out what I'm up to, head over to www.shineslikestars.com.

I'll still pop in here from time to time to give updates of a more personal nature, perhaps. Pictures of Addie, things that don't really belong over at the other site. But for now, I'm going to be pouring myself into developing that site. I hope to see you there.

Thank you for encouraging me, reading me, challenging me, and sticking with me. I appreciate it so much more than I can say.

Much love.

52 Projects: Project 29

Well, I finally did it. I took the 52 Projects plunge.

I found out about 52 Projects a few months ago from Kaitlyn Patience of isavirtue.net. (She is a paper artist with a really cool blog.) She does the 52 projects thing and I found it to be really fun, interesting, a fairly easy way to integrate creativity into my everyday life without making me feel like I was taking on some huge, expensive new hobby (like painting, which someday I'm actually going to try. I've always wanted to. Never have, unless you count painting with watercolors when I was a kid, which I loved.)

Anyway, choosing which project to start with turned out to be more difficult than the project itself. (Isn't that just like so many other things in life? Psyching ourselves up for starting turns out to be the bigger task. We sure do get in our own way, don't we?). Anyway, when I read over Project 29, I knew that was the one to start with.

52 Projects: Project 29

Get a regular-sized envelope. Address it to someone special. Then, stuff it with as many things as you can: a letter, photographs, ripped out magazine articles, photocopies of poems, a short story, or passages from a novel, recipes, clipped newspaper articles, art work, poems or stories you’ve written… Anything that can be folded up and put in the envelope. Make sure to stuff it so full that you need to use tape to keep it sealed. This envelope should have serious heft. Once it’s sealed, get the proper postage put on it (definitely use stamps) and mail it off.

An easy enough challenge, right? The only real change I made to the project is that I included stamps on the inside and instructed its recipient to compile an envelope of her own and send it on to someone else. Why not pass it on, right? It was so much fun to be on the lookout for interesting tidbits to send to her. Recipes, articles, old pictures, inspiring quotes--so much fun.

So, who did I choose to send this envelope to? A dear friend of mine was in serious need of some encouragement. When I first read the description of this project, her name popped into my head immediately. The embarrassing part is that it took nearly a month and a half to compile and send that envelope.  This stack of things sat on my kitchen counter for nearly four weeks before I finally sent it on its merry way. The good news is that God's timing is so much better than mine is. Although I meant to send the envelope weeks before I actually did, as it turns out, my friend received the envelope on Thanksgiving and she read it during a difficult moment during that day. (Isn't God so cool?)

What an easy way to brighten someone's day. I love receiving real mail. I think this might just have to be something I do on a more regular basis--I mean, why not?

A Heart at Peace?

I seem to be avoiding writing like the plague these days. And this disturbs me.

It's a very disconcerting way to live, you see. Avoiding the thing you've been made to do. Making excuses for doing something else--anything else--rather than sitting down and doing the thing that makes you feel alive. It makes me feel as if a part of my very spirit has withered away beyond the point where it can be revived.

I used to crave moments when nothing else in the world mattered more than getting out on paper the thoughts that were percolating inside of me. Not that they were sweeping, life-altering, earth-shattering things, but they were mine, and to put them into words made everything feel . . . right. 

Van Gogh said, "I only feel alive when I paint." It's as if he felt that something in the world wasn't quite right unless he did the thing he was made to do. And look how greatly he enriched our world. Would the world have continued on if he had sat idly by, letting his inspiration evaporate from him? Sure it would, just as the world will continue to spin even if any of today's artists cease to create. The world, to survive, does not need artists to create.

But it seems to me that for the artist to survive, he must create.
 
For a long, long time, I did not think of myself as an artist of any sort. When I was very little, I enjoyed painting with water colors, coloring in coloring books, reading whatever book I could get my hands on, and singing in the shower. I'm not sure what changed any of that. I haven't picked up a paintbrush (other than to paint a birdhouse or a bedroom) in years. I don't remember the last time I just sat and colored. And singing in the shower? The last time I did that my brother knocked on the bathroom door and mimicked the song I was singing. (I've always remembered that and never recovered from the embarrassment.)

I grew up in a home where art and creativity was in our blood. Performing arts, specifically. I was in church musicals, Christmas pageants, school plays and the school choir all throughout my school years, many of which were directed by my father. When I was quite young, I really enjoyed it, but as I got older, I began to realize I actually didn't like performing much, after all. Being creative, yes. Being in front of an audience, no.

But after high school, I felt like I was spinning. Without a creative outlet to call my own, I felt lost and insecure and anything but an artist, though deep down inside of me I desperately wanted to be one. While I was in college, I spent far too much time majoring in things I thought I "ought to" major in, instead of the things that spoke to my heart, the things that moved me and excited me. These were the things that scared me.

I ended up getting over myself and changed majors. A few years in, I finally found my way to the English department, and I spent the next two years immersing myself in the beauty and mystery of the written language. I shied away from creative writing (one step at a time, right?), but I found something within myself as I spent the next two years studying literature. I found something to which I felt called.

But here I am, five years later, and I'm struggling to find my way back to that place, the place where I feel inspired and alive.

Today when my daughter went down for her morning nap, all I wanted to do was crawl into my own bed for a mid-morning snooze. I snuggled in, flipped on my iPad and started checking out the Facebook news feed. A Facebook friend of mine was announcing that she'd just published her first work. Now I hardly know her, to be honest, but it felt like a personal jab, like somehow I'd missed my chance to do the thing I know deep down I'm supposed to do. She clearly hadn't. To make matters worse, she has an infant daughter, works full time, and is involved at church with her pastor husband. Me? All I do is stay home to take care of my 13 month old little girl.

In that moment all I wanted to do was hide under the covers, away from the rest of the world. I asked God, "Why her? Why not me?" And then I thought, "This isn't fair. How come it's so hard for me to get through the day with one child, while she clearly has no problem? And, it's not like things are going to get easier for me--baby #2 is on the way now. As much as I want this family, how will I ever be able to have my other dreams, too? Do I have to give it up? Was I wrong to dream the dreams I've dreamed? This is just so... unfair."

That word--unfair--made me realize that I was experiencing a searing bout of envy (envy: painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage). I felt bad about that, but it was as though I couldn't help it. I know the Bible warns us about envy, but in that moment, in all honesty, not one verse came to mind. Not one. (That's incredibly embarrassing to admit.) So to my Bible I went, and of all the verses that were listed in the concordance regarding envy, here is the one that stuck out to me:

"A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones." Proverbs 14:30 (TNIV)

Clearly, my heart is not at peace, not if I'm resentful of another person's success, all while desiring it for my own.  So, how exactly do I get this elusive peace? I actually thought perhaps I had some. I was wrong.

Isaiah 26:3 says, "You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you."

And there it is: my mind hasn't been steadfast. I have wavered between doubt and self-pity, envious of others who seem to have what it takes to actually do the thing their heart screams for them to do. It's not to say that I haven't trusted in the Lord. I have trusted in him for many things, but I haven't trusted him with this lately. I used to trust him completely with this part of my life, but I think somewhere along the way I took it back again. And as a result, my mind is not at peace.

Van Gogh said a lot of really poignant things, and today these few are resonating with me. Perhaps they'll resonate with you, too:

"If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,' then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced."

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.” 

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?” 

So today, armed with a new self-awareness, I apologize to this Facebook friend for being envious of your success. Congratulations on a job well done.

And finally, I apologize to you Lord for not trusting you with this part of me. It is yours. I am yours. Use us as you will.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him and he will make your paths straight." -- Proverbs 3:5

A Life that Shines Like Stars

There is a sketch in one of my old journals, something my husband Joey drew in pencil one Sunday while our pastor gave the sermon. It’s not a big or imposing sketch; it is just a small, simple drawing that I could have easily forgotten, really. But one morning not so long ago, it was all I could think about. I have piles of journals, some half empty, some nearly full, most stowed away for that elusive someday when I would go back and revisit the ideas recorded there. Finding the picture among them all should have been difficult, but somehow I knew exactly which journal to find it in and where within those near-yellowed pages I would find it.

What I didn’t remember was why the sketch was there, or what had prompted it to be drawn in the first place. But when the pages fell open, I saw the image and read the verse scribbled just next to it:

“Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of God. Carry the light-giving message into the night.” Philippians 2:15 (The Message)

When I read these words that morning, they came alive in a way they hadn’t before. The juxtaposition of the verse and the sketch was powerful enough that morning for me to know that the Lord was speaking to me through them in a profound way, igniting them on fire and burning them onto my heart.

For the past several months, I’ve had a gnawing desire deep in my heart, one that is fraught with unanswered questions and uncertainty. I’m longing for something more than the life I have. It’s not to say I am unhappy. I’m quite happy indeed. In fact, there are moments in which I know I am happier now than I have been before. Life is full and wonderful, and there are beautiful moments in which I think to myself, “This is the life.”

Still, those moments pass and I’m left looking around my life wondering what it is, exactly. What is this life I lead? Isn’t there more? And if there is, am I ungrateful for the life I have and selfish for wanting the life that could be?  I suppose it depends on what it is I’m wanting exactly. When I boil it down, what I want is this: I want more than to just make it through the day. I want to be inspired, I want to create, and I want to have adventure, romance, and beauty be a part of my everyday. I want to learn, and grow and discover things that make me squeal with delight. I want to live a good life, a really good life. Meaningful. Full.

And as a Christian, that’s mine for the taking, right? Life to the full? That’s what Christ came to give us, isn’t it? But what does that mean, exactly? What does it look like lived out? I often wonder what Jesus meant when he talked about that. I’ve wrestled with the idea of “life to the full” many times, mainly because being a follower of Christ doesn’t mean that life is always fun or easy.

But in John 10, Jesus talks about this idea, saying “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Just before he says this, Jesus is talking figuratively about being a gatekeeper for sheep, and how it is through him that they can enter the safety of the pen. He is the shepherd whose voice the sheep know and recognize, the voice that they follow and obey. He tells of how those who try to enter the pen any other way are thieves whose purpose is to steal, kill, or destroy (the sheep, and therefore, the safety and the security of the life they have). But His purpose is to give life—the best life possible—to these sheep.

In other words, Jesus came to bring safety, security, a sense of belonging, a purpose; he has come to meet needs and care for the sheep that need him so desperately. Perhaps that is the “good living” that Paul talk about in Philippians 2:15, a life lived in a way that makes others notice that there is something different—and appealing—about it, not because we in ourselves are good, but because if we listen and obey the voice of the One who is Good, then our lives will give the world a glimpse of good living and of God.

But is this sort of life a sheltered one that doesn’t leave room for adventure? Just hanging around the pen all day sounds (dare I say) boring, and I don’t think that’s what Jesus meant—especially if Paul implores us to go out into the corrupted world as a breath of fresh air. I don’t think Jesus intended for those who love him to just sit inside the safety he provides; I think that because he is good, he protects; because he loves, he leads; because we choose to follow, he guides. 

Like the sketch shows, I think we're supposed to go out into the world and let our love for Jesus, and therefore love for others, clean up the filth around us. We'll be a breath of fresh air if we simply live like Christ lived, and people will see him through us in the midst of the yuck and filth.

But to be completely honest, I'm not really sure what that looks like given the way my life actually is at the moment. So, I'm a journey of discovery to find out what it actually looks like, feels like, is - logistically, spiritually, practically. And through it all, I’m learning to live in a way that is risky and beautiful and meaningful and deeper than what it appears to be on the surface because I really do want my life to be a breath of fresh air, one that reflects the goodness of who God is, one that shines bright like stars.

Project 31: Day 31. Write about your dreams and goals as a beautiful woman!

Whew. There were a few days there I thought I'd never make it. I started Project 31 back in, what, January? But I promised myself that I'd finish, and I'm learning that these days, following through is not as easy as I thought it would be. It's a muscle that I need to exercise more, I think. Making a commitment, walking that commitment out, doing the hard work that comes with making a decision about something--that's tough. But it's good.

So here I am today, at my last Project 31 entry and I realize that even though the journey has been long, the lessons I've learned are more than worth it. It's not that I didn't know what true beauty was before tackling this project; I did. But I don't think I understood it as I do now. I wouldn't begin to claim that I understand it all. I know I don't. But nevertheless, it's fair to say that I understand more now than I did at the beginning, and as I walk away from this challenge and continue to embrace beauty, to celebrate it, to live it out--I'll understand even more about it. And I love that.

My dream is to walk in beauty. To breathe it in and savor it, to live it, to somehow embody it everyday. To recognize beauty in the dusty, neglected corners of the world that others have forgotten. To celebrate it in unconventional places. To point it out. To create it. To enjoy it.

I hope to instill these things in my daughter as she continues to grow in beauty and grace. I hope that her heart understands, truly deeply understands, how beautiful she is, how important her heart is, and how the two are intertwined. I know she'll have battles of her own, battles she'll have to fight for herself, things she'll have to learn on her own, and sorrows and heartaches that will come (she is, after all, human), but I also hope that deep down, she will know that she knows that she knows how valuable she is, how beautiful she is, and how loved she is. Just because she is.

I dream of a day when beauty becomes real again. When the imposters are exposed for what they are, when the distorted perception of "real" beauty is set right. I dream of the day when True Beauty will be revered and celebrated and understood for what it really is. If the beauty we see on Earth, the beauty that arrests our hearts and makes us catch our breath, the beauty that makes us feel soothed and comforted, the beauty that inspires us to sing, dance, paint, write, create--if that beauty is in fact, beautiful--how much more beautiful is the One whom it reflects?

Beyond that, there are many things I hope for and dream about, things to which I aspire and goals I've set for myself. But I think I'll save those for another time, perhaps another place. Today, I think these few words capture the essence of what I hope for my future. So in closing, I'll say this: Thanks, Project 31 for making me dive into the deep mystery of beauty, and for helping me to come back up gasping for air while celebrating what I've found. And thank you to She Breathes Deeply for setting up the challenge!

Project 31 Day 30: Who is your role model as a woman?

Many woman have influenced me over the years. Their names and backgrounds are as varied as the reasons why I have looked up to them. First, there was Anne, you know, Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables? She was outgoing, gregarious, always up for a good time, insanely smart, clever, and always said exactly what she thought. I admired that about her. Plus, Gilbert Blythe adored her world. What girl didn't want to be like Anne? But try as I may to deny it, I was always more like Diana Barry. Quiet. Demure. Shy. Not exactly the kind of girl I wanted to be, even though it's the kind of girl I was.

As I got a bit older, though, I realized there were more important things than being the funny, clever, center of attention. Those girls tended to get into mischief, a minor detail I conveniently overlooked when I admired Anne as I did. I liked that I didn't get into much trouble. I was proud of it, actually. I liked following the rules. I also realized that there was more to beauty than just what the color of your hair was because believe it or not, there were other "Gilberts" out there who liked my hair just the way it was (shock of all shocks). I started turning my attentions to other women, real women, not just characters in a book. You know, like Rachel Green. On Friends.

Rachel was beautiful. She had style, she had class. Everyone loved her. She seemed to do no wrong. And if she did, it was "accidental" and her innocent little smile got her out of a world of trouble.  It was sort of endearing. But after awhile, I realized that in the end, I was more like Monica. Picky and anal, perhaps, but exceedingly loving and dependable. She loved to serve others, albeit in her own way, but she did it with a sort of dignity and ease that I admired.

And then, after Friends wrapped and reruns eventually took up permanent residence on TBS, I realized that these women, although they seemed real to me at the time, weren't so real after all. But Audrey Hepburn? Jackie Kennedy Onasis? Now those were actual, honest to goodness, not some created character, women. And I admired them for their style, dignity and grace (among other things). I still do. I also admire Mother Theresa for her unconditional love and for the way she gave her life to so many others. And I admire many qualities of other women who I actually have the privilege to know, women who have poured into my life and been a steadfast friends, and all of them, in their own way, are role models for me. But as much as I admire all of them, the truth is that the woman who is my real role model, the one who has been a model of what a woman is for, well, my whole life--that's my mom.

And I can't believe I don't have a picture of her to post! They're on our hard drive, so I'll dig them out later and post them here.

Until then, know this: in her smile is a picture of true femininity. She is full of love, overflowing with it, actually. She is nurturing and loving, encouraging and supportive. She shares in the joys and the sorrows of those she loves as if they were her own (because really, they are her joys and sorrows too).  She loves unconditionally, with her whole heart. She makes sacrifice after beautiful sacrifice, and she chooses what is better over what is easy.  And still, she isn't afraid to say no. She isn't afraid to set boundaries. She isn't afraid to speak up if she needs to. She isn't afraid to disagree. She isn't afraid to "tell it like it is" when the occasion calls for it, but she always wields the weapon of the tongue wisely. She is generous, kind, accepting. She is loyal, loving, and compassionate. She is a woman unlike anyone else I know, the perfect mother and life long role model for me, her imperfect little girl.

Mom, thank you for being you. Who you are has made me who I am, and I like who I am. I'm a really, really lucky lady to have you as a mom, mentor, role model, and friend. Thank you for your love, your sacrifice, your advice, your support, your encouragement, and your friendship. And, perhaps most of all, thank you for all those nights of scratching my back until I fell asleep, even though I'm sure there were many nights you were too tired to see straight, let alone spend extra time doing that for me. I understand that kind of love now. Thank you for teaching it to me by example. I love you bigger than the sky!

Project 31 Day 29: My Day, Today.

Day 29.  Write about "a day in the life of me."  (Pics are great!)

Beware. This entry is somewhat boring, as it recounts the daily monotony that I've come to enjoy as my new normal. As I sat here relaying the ins and outs of my day, it occurred to me that things sound sort of hum-drum, but even though there may be moments that feel somewhat hum-drum-like, the moments when everything feels right somehow make up for it. I say all that to say this: read at your own risk. If you get bored, I apologize. Come live a day in our life with us, though, and I promise you won't be bored. We do our best to make the most of each day by being silly, taking chances, trying new things, and exploring our surroundings.

I can't remember the last time I set my alarm clock. Ever since the girl came into my life, I haven't had a need for one. Her sweet murmuring gently stirs me from – or startles me out of – sleep every day, and although I do miss being able to hit the snooze button on my old alarm clock, I have to admit that I don't miss the alarm itself. I always hated it. 

Today was no different. At seven something this morning, the girl started stirring. I had been up with her at 2:30 (after having a bit of insomnia last night), so Joey did a wonderful thing for me—he got her up and gave her a morning bottle, and let me snooze for a few more precious minutes. When I got up, I saw father and daughter sitting in the serene morning light, quietly playing together and simply enjoying being together. It’s a treat for Addie to have play time with her daddy in the morning, and I could tell she was eating it up.

Soon, Joey reluctantly had to go get ready for work, so I found something to occupy Addie's attention while I stumbled through the kitchen in my endeavor to brew my morning coffee, get her breakfast ready, and load up Pandora with what would soon become the soundtrack to our morning. Disney songs played in the background as I sang and made silly faces at the girl while I spooned blueberry banana oatmeal into her anxious mouth. (Did you know there's a Disney station on Pandora? A recent discovery that makes me happy. And who wouldn't want to sing silly songs to this sweet girl?) And while I was in the midst of singing "Kiss the Girl," Joey kissed his girls goodbye and headed out the door.

This is a fairly typical scene—and after it’s over, we get ready to explore our day. Today? Today she took a nap not long after breakfast, which let me take an invigorating shower and drink my coffee in the quiet of the morning. When she woke up, it was just about time for lunch, after which we loaded up the car and drove to the mall to meet Joey for his lunch break. We got my ring cleaned (a long-overdue necessity), shopped for a new lamp (which we didn’t actually find), and window shopped in the kids’ stores, drooling over the new fall fashions that would look so adorable on the girl, that I have to actually turn away from them so that I don’t start feeling like I’m a bad mom for not buying her a closet full of designer baby clothes. (I avoid the mall as much as I can because in all honesty? It sort of makes me feel bad about myself. I slip into feeling “less than,” as if I’m not good enough because I don’t have the latest greatest fashions, and neither does my child.) 

After the mall, we headed out to the grocery store to get formula (why am I always buying formula? The stuff goes so quickly!), and then Addie was ready for a nap by the time we got home. A bottle, a clean diaper, a sleep sack and a binky and Addie was down for the count. I had a few minutes to get a small bite to eat myself before she woke up, uncomfortable and irritated. The good news? She went right back to sleep when I picked her up and rocked her for a minute or two. Another 45 minutes was my own, and I used it to start working on our menu plan / grocery list for the next pay check.

After naptime, I confess that I turned on Veggie Tales and let Addie eat a small snack while watching it. A short time into it, though, a neighbor came over to drop off a book she’d told me about and a recipe she’d raved about. She and her 17 month old son came in and played with us for a little while, and before we knew it, it was nearly time for Joey to come home.

And so, I started washing dishes to make room for the dinner preparations while Addie played in her saucer and watched Sesame Beginnings. And then who should arrive? Joey, to his daughter’s delight. I think that is my most favorite time of the day—the moment when Joey comes home and Addie gets more excited than she has been through the whole day. It makes my heart smile, and I know it makes Joey’s heart soar.

Dinner time. Bath time. Bottle time. Bed time. It went fast this evening. And now here it is, just barely 7:00 and I am enjoying the quiet moment to record the ordinary goings on of my day. And although my life is fairly ordinary, I believe deep down in the heart of who I am that it’s actually quite extraordinary indeed, and I am blessed beyond what I could imagine would ever be possible. Life? Yep, it's pretty darn good.

Pictures worth more than words.

I love this girl.

Moving. Always moving.

Moving. I don't particularly enjoy it. Do you? The packing. The unpacking. The living among stacks of boxes of things you're not sure what to do with (and wonder why you have them at all if you can't figure out where they should go...). The clutter. The chaos. The time it takes to decide where you want to put things. Not feeling at home for awhile. And we've moved three times in two years (this is the third time). And this time, we moved with a baby.  We were fortunate that my parents kept her with them while we made the big push to get things moved in, and here we are finally, at the end of a long day saying goodbye to them as they drove away and left us in our own place. Addie had never lived in a place where they didn't live before. We wondered what this would do to her. We wondered how we would handle having her without the extra hands around. We wondered how being a 25 minute drive away from friends and family would feel, how it would work, how I would deal with being more alone, now.



But in the midst of all the upheaval, I have found new joy in old dusty corners of my heart, the part of my heart that I'd shoved aside, wondering if those dreams would ever become my reality.  They did. They continue to become my reality every day.

I'm learning that there is space to grow and change and learn and be, here. Even though I find myself wondering what our life here will be like when all of the boxes are finally sorted through and the pictures begin to take up residence on our walls, I am also noticing in the midst of very mundane, very ordinary moments that I am stopping to say "Thank you." Thank you to a God who is bigger than my doubts. Thank you to a God whose word is true and trustworthy. Thank you to a God who provides in bigger and better ways than my little mind can wrap itself around. Thank you for the family I get to explore this place with. For the feet that walked into my life and changed it for the better--both sets of them.

I'm still getting used to the sounds and smells of the quiet mornings here. There is a stillness here that we didn't have before. But in the quiet that has accompanied this transition, I'm finding joy--and the joy of new is what I do, after all, like about moving. I'm finding new balance, new purpose, new dreams, new interests, and new reasons to be thankful. (And my, how I am thankful.)

For these reasons, I think I ought to always be moving in one way or the other.

Meant to Enrich

Do you ever have moments where you're just sort of going through the motions of the day and out of seemingly no where, you know God is saying something to you? I do. Sometimes it happens when I'm listening to a song. Sometimes it happens when I see a beautiful piece of art. Sometimes it happens when I'm washing dishes (which I am very much avoiding right at the moment). But most of the time, He uses words (or is it that I tend to hear him clearer through actual words than I do through a whisper in the wind?) I know it's Him because the words become illuminated, like they're burning fire searing them into my mind and heart. And (every time) I ask myself, "Could that really be Him?" and (every time) He says, "Yep."

I don't know a whole lot about Woodrow Wilson (aside from the fact that he was one of our Presidents in years past), and I don't have any clue if he believed in Christ, and I am certain he had no idea that God would use his words decades after he spoke them to get my attention on this sleepy August afternoon (while I sat avoiding the pile of dishes in my messy kitchen). But what I do know is that he was on to something, and his words encouraged and inspired me today. 

And perhaps they'll encourage and inspire you wherever you are today, too, so here they are:

You are not here merely to make a living. You are here in order to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world, and you impoverish yourself if you forget the errand.

- Woodrow Wilson

Project 31 Day 28: Insecurity

Day 28.  Write about your insecurities as a woman.

Not so long ago, I wondered whether I would want to be friends with myself.

Have you ever done that? Sat back and thought about who you are--the good, the bad, the boring, the ordinary--and wondered if you would want to spend time with yourself if you happened to be someone else?  Would you accept an invitation to coffee, risking sitting in uncomfortable silence in hopes you would find a kindred spirit sitting across the table from you? I thought about this recently and I decided that yes, I would be friends with me.

It was a relief to come to that conclusion, actually. I cataloged myself, my strengths, my weaknesses, and I decided that I am beautifully imperfect, which makes me unique. Different. It gives me character. And those are the sorts of people I like to be friends with (don't you?).

When I was young, my babysitter Stephanie used to do all kinds of strange, out of the ordinary things to create fun for us, and we used to laugh at her and tell her she was weird. To this, she would reply, "I'm not weird; I'm gifted." And by saying so, she taught me that being true to yourself--who you really are at the core of yourself, quirkiness and all--is a beautiful gift to the world. There is no one else like you. There is no one else like me.

And yet, simply knowing this doesn't always help me feel confident. In fact, for most of my life, I have felt quite insecure about myself and about my gifts. I've questioned the way I look, the way I talk, the words I write, the things I create, the opinions I have. I've wondered if I'm ok--if I'm enough. I know I'm not alone in this. Women's hearts long to know they're enough. Pretty enough, clever enough, smart enough, original enough, intelligent enough. You name it, they wonder it.

 But enough for what? For whom? These are the questions I'm asking now. I've beaten myself up for years over the things that make me uniquely me.  Struggling with these things doesn't just go away with a snap of the fingers, but something that's helped me immensely is getting over myself. I've realized that the world is much bigger than just me (shocking, I know), and most people tend to struggle with the same things as I do. And if we all continue to let these thoughts and doubts take up precious time and space in our thought-life, won't we miss out on something much more important than these things? (Like, you know, other people?)

I came across this quote by Emily Dickinson today, and I love how her simple words capture the choice to put aside the doubt-filled self talk and choose instead to be available to the to being used to bring light and warmth into the life of someone else. 

They might not need me; but they might. I'll let my head be just in sight; 

a smile as small as mine might be precisely their necessity.
Emily Dickinson  

We aren't all the same. I'm not like you. You're not like me. Sometimes I might think I'm weird (or someone else might think I'm weird), but really, I'm gifted--and so are you. And my gifts might minister to your specific needs, just as yours might minister to mine. 

Saying Goodbye

We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

-Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

This quote made me think of my friend Felicia today. I read it this morning as I was wracking my brain, trying to think of something, anything, that I could give her as a goodbye gift. I couldn't think of anything beyond the two recipes she had asked for (which I did give her, of course). But this quote stuck with me today and I couldn't seem to let it go.

Perhaps I was just caught up in thinking about this friend of mine today because it was, after all, the last time I'd see her in quite some time. And even thought I knew this day was bound to happen, the day she'd leave us and head into the unknown as she followed God's gentle tug at her heart, it still caught me by surprise and made my heart ache more than I expected it to. 

 

When I saw this quote, it made me think of something she taught me, one of the things I admire about her the most. She has the capacity to block out the noise of what other people are saying and remain true to herself and what the Lord is saying to her. Of all the things I learned from her, this is perhaps the most important. Well, that and the way she loves people with her whole heart--the way I imagine Jesus loves them, too. I love that about her. I'll miss that about her.

Saying goodbye was hard even though I know it's a good goodbye. And I do believe this is a good goodbye. I don't know what's next for her, but what I do know is that my heart is heavy with hope for her future. Simply put, Felicia is one of the best people I know; if anyone deserves good things, it's her. And I have a feeling that there are many good things around the corner for her. 

 

Felicia, like I said to you before, my life is richer because you are my friend. Thank you for your wisdom, your humor, your generosity, and your loyalty. I hope you know how much you are loved.

Big hugs. Always.

Project 31 Day 27: A Word of Encouragement

Sheesh--it's been over two months since I tackled a Project 31 topic. Oh well. Sometimes that sort of thing happens despite our best efforts, eh? In any case, here we go again.

Day 27.  Write a blog to encourage someone and build their confidence.

So many names are popping into my mind right now. It seems that just about everyone I know who is a woman could do with a good dose of encouragement. I know I could. 

(Pause.)

I didn't think this through before starting. I hadn't really known this was the topic I would be tackling tonight, and although I've had many ideas of who to write this to (when I thought about it at the back of my mind since first starting the project), someone entirely different has taken up residence in my thoughts this evening, and as we all know when something like that happens, we ought to pay attention (don't we?).

So Miss Val, this one's for you.

The more I think about you, the more I wonder what in the world I could say to build your confidence.

After all, you're the one who has encouraged me, prayed for me, called me out on the truth of who I am, and called me up to the task of living out that truth--since the very first time we spoke. Do you remember it? Probably not, but I do. It was at a women's retreat a few years ago. You were ministering to many people at the same time, and with time, faces become fuzzy, words spoken in prayer fade from memory and take up residence in the heart of whoever the prayer was for, and time moves on.

But I remember. Not as clearly now as I used to, but I do remember this: You were one of the first people outside of my immediate circle of friends who encouraged me, without knowing much about me, to write. It was during the time in my life when the desire to do so was just beginning to peek its head through the hard soil of my timid heart, and perhaps you knew that somehow, because the words you spoke to me challenged me to break out of the self-protective barriers I had placed around myself, barriers that had kept me captive from the freedom that comes from living out my calling.

And not long after that, you met and befriended Joey and saw in him something special, something he didn't realize was there, something about which he was actually quite passionate. You called him out and called him up, encouraging him to take risks and be bold and discover and develop talents he had only dreamed about before then. You built him up in a way that no one had before.

These are only two examples, but I am certain there are countless others like these. I am certain of this because encouraging others is what you're about. It's who you are. You live your life in such a way that by simply being you, you encourage, build up, and inspire others to take a risk and see what happens when they start walking in their destiny.

I realize that we don't know each other very well (a fact that I very much hope will change), but what I do know of you, I admire. I respect. I enjoy. You are an example of what it means to be a confident, secure, vulnerable, and soft woman all at the same time. You are such a treasure, one that I'm sure God is jealous for, one that makes His heart smile with every thought He has for you.

In short, you matter. Your life matters. To me, yes, but to so many others as well. And tonight, may you sleep soundly in the peace that comes with knowing that.

Much love.

Choosing Joy

Why is it that things always seem worse in the shower? When there's something on my mind, the power of the thought is tenfold when I'm in there. Things seem their bleakest then, like there's no hope, and like the world will be crashing in around me as soon as I step out from behind the curtain. Maybe it's the complete aloneness of being in the shower that frees me to give my feelings room to just be for a moment. And giving them a moment to express themselves without reservation or judgement can be cathartic because, as soon as I step out of the shower, I discover that the world doesn't come crashing down. It keeps moving, spinning round and round, always pushing forward to what's next.



As is probably evident by now, my mind has been running circles around me for the past couple of days. In some moments, I'm completely fine, and in others, I am not.  Because of this, I've learned in a very practical way what it means to take my thoughts captive, to not let them have free reign to dance around my head, mocking me at every turn.

I've also learned what it means to choose joy.  When I choose joy, it doesn't mean that I'm immediately happy. When I choose joy, it doesn't mean that the other feelings disappear completely. What it does mean, though, is that in the middle of whatever it is I'm going through, whether it's worry or frustration or discouragement or whatever, I can take heart in the knowledge that there is more than what my eyes can see. Like Dr. Foth said at church this Sunday--things aren't always what they seem. To some, a stick in the hand of an 10-year-old boy might look like it's exactly that--just a stick, when really, it's something else (like a fishing pole, a light saber, or a baseball bat). What we see as circumstantial, ordinary, or just plain mundane--God sees it as something else. To take it a step further, what we see as difficult, painful, worrisome or fearful--God see it as an opportunity to grow our faith, expand our joy, and develop character (among other things, I'm sure).

So this week, I'm practicing choosing joy. I'm choosing to see beyond my circumstances, to focus my attention on truth, and to allow the peace that surpasses understanding do exactly that--surpass my understanding.

Coming to Terms with Change

I'm not big on change. In theory, I love it because it keeps life interesting. But in practice, it's tough for me to set aside what I know for something different. I suspect it's because I like routine. A lot.

I like getting up in the morning with an expectation of what the day will be like. I like doing things a certain way, I like traditions, and I like to know what's required of me (and when). I appreciate having plans well in advance. I like to be prepared for things beforehand, and routine helps me achieve that. But sometimes, as much as I thrive on routine, it gets a little boring.

Over the past few months, I've learned that experiencing something new isn't the hard part. Changing my routine is.

With routine comes security, assurance, constancy and comfort. When routine is thrown off, I often get grumpy or short-tempered, and I feel off-balance and "not myself."  (Look at babies--they're the same way.) But when the routine is all there is, when days become so predictable that it feels I've lived the same one over and over again for weeks, routine gets tiresome. Getting out and finding new things to see, do, or learn refreshes my spirit and makes me feel that I'm actually living, instead of just being passively alive.

And yet, change is still hard.  And change is just around the corner. Not just for me, but for many people I love, too. Some of the changes are hard to accept because we aren't really sure what to expect. When people move, when jobs change, when the things we know and have come to rely on are suddenly different, we start to feel like our whole world has shifted in some cosmic way, and we are left trying to hold on to something--anything--with which we are familiar.

And yet, even though these changes are difficult, they are good. Difficult doesn't always mean bad. In fact, very often, enduring difficulty produces the things that are the most beautiful, most precious parts of our lives. New and difficult changes are an opportunity to learn, grow, and enrich our lives.

Eventually, we'll grow accustomed to the new things we're about to experience. We'll have new routines, new traditions, and new memories. They will not replace the things that are important now; they will expand upon them and enrich them.

So, to those whose lives are changing in the coming weeks and months, to those who are preparing to begin something new, I hope you will welcome it and not resist it. I hope you will join me in taking the beautiful memories of the past with us. I hope we will go on to live our days steeped in who we are and what is important to us while also allowing the new places, new people, and new ideas to enrich our lives.

After all, aren't God's timing and purposes perfect? Difficult, yes. But good--and for our own good, right? As we yield to him, we gain so much, and perhaps we will realize that the things we feel we've lost aren't really lost after all.

 There is a time for everything, 

and everything on earth has its special season.

 There is a time to be born and a time to die.
    There is a time to plant and a time to pull up plants.
There is a time to kill and a time to heal.
   There is a time to destroy and a time to build.
There is a time to cry and a time to laugh.
    There is a time to be sad and a time to dance.
 There is a time to throw away stones and a time to gather them.
    There is a time to hug and a time not to hug.
 There is a time to look for something and a time to stop looking for it.
    There is a time to keep things and a time to throw things away.
There is a time to tear apart and a time to sew together.
    There is a time to be silent and a time to speak.
There is a time to love and a time to hate.
    There is a time for war and a time for peace.

Do people really gain anything from their work? 

I saw the hard work God has given people to do. 

God has given them a desire to know the future. 

He does everything just right and on time, 

but people can never completely understand what he is doing. 

So I realize that the best thing for them is to be happy 

and enjoy themselves as long as they live. 

God wants all people to eat and drink and be happy 

in their work, which are gifts from God. 

I know that everything God does will continue forever. 

People cannot add anything to what God has done, 

and they cannot take anything away from it. 

God does it this way to make people respect him.

 What happens now has happened in the past, 
and what will happen in the future has happened before.
       God makes the same things happen again and again. 

--Ecclesiastes 3: 1-15

Making Room for Writing

Well, here it is--the weekend, Saturday night. I admit it: I was feeling a bit down awhile ago because Joey was called into emergency surgery this evening, and Addie and I spent the majority of the night fighting over bedtime. (Yes, my eight month old picked a fight with me--and nearly won--over bedtime.) As I washed dishes and picked up the house, she was screaming, my back was aching, my head started to spin at the thought of the laundry list of things I had to get done in the next few weeks (real or imagined), and I began to feel guilty that I hadn't spent time writing in awhile, which turned into feeling like I was a big failure at life. (You know how the swirl happens.)

Addie eventually settled down, and not long after I managed to get the dishes dried and put away, it occurred to me that I had a quiet house all to myself, something which doesn't happen very often since we're living with my parents and my brother at the moment. I found myself confronted with, well, myself. Just me, no one else. Alone. I crave alone time, but I don't get much of it these days. It dawned on me that I could do whatever I wanted to tonight. I could even sit down and spend some time writing if I wanted to. But then suddenly I thought of a million reasons why I shouldn't write, the main one being the question, "What would I write about anyway?". I gave those reasons too much weight tonight, but the good news is that I overcame them. (You're reading the proof.)


This isn't the first time I've had to force myself to write. It probably won't be the last, either. It's not because I don't like writing, because I do. I love writing.  In fact, I often feel like it's one of the few places I feel the most comfortable in my own skin. Even so, making the time and space to write is a discipline because it feels frivolous to me sometimes, like I am whiling away the hours when there are a million other things I "should" be doing, and since writing is something I love doing, it must be unessential. 

But I know the truth: the truth is that it's not frivolous. It's not a waste of time. It's important, and I need to do it--even if it's only for myself. The problem is, I'm still figuring out what to write, exactly, which is why I often have to force myself to write. Believe it or not, a good majority of the posts I have collected here are the fruit of forcing myself to sit down and do the thing I love. More often than not, I don't plan what to write before I sit down to write it.

And yet, somehow when I set aside time to escape from the swirl of the world around me that never seems to stop otherwise, when I intentionally choose to give attention to the things that have been quietly clamoring for my attention, words begin to flow out of me, words that I wasn't aware of before, and that creates peace deep in my spirit because I know I am doing the thing that makes me come alive.

You would think that it would be easy to make the time for such a thing, right? The problem is, I've bought into the lie, the one that tells me that I have nothing to say, and even if I did, it wouldn't really matter. It's the same lie that makes me second guess myself, the one that tells me I'm unoriginal, ill-equipped, uninteresting.
  
I admit that I have let that lie cripple me. I wrote about it not so long ago, didn't I? The identity crisis I experienced was borne straight out of that. But I've come to realize that the lie was keeping me from being my true self, which is such a waste of a gift. Not using the gift that God gave me is just as good as handing it right back to Him and saying, "No, thanks," isn't it? It makes me think of instances when I have given a gift, one that I thought for sure the recipient would love to receive, only to find that they didn't love it, because if they did, they would have used it. Sure, they said plenty of "thank you's" and "I love it's" to make me feel like I gave a good gift, but isn't it so much more meaningful when the person to whom you give a gift puts it to visible use? When you give a friend a piece of jewelry, doesn't it make you happy to see her wearing it? Or when you give your brother a CD, don't you like it when you hear him listening to it?

In the same way, I want my life--writing or otherwise--to be an expression of gratitude to the One who gave me the gift, and I want to make Him smile when he sees me basking in the joy that comes from using it.

So, I guess that if I have to force myself to write once in awhile, so be it. It's better than not using my gift at all.