Ecclesiastes 3 tells us there is a time for the things that happen in our lives.
“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under the sun.”
This brings me comfort.
Especially when I get in a hurry for something to happen, or disappointed when it doesn’t.
Not much writing as been happening around here lately. There is a very big part of me that is sad because of that.
Writing is one of those things for me that water is to a fish, or oxygen is to lungs, or love is to a lover. Without it, the other just can’t exist.
Ok, well maybe that sounds a little dramatic. I’m not dead or anything for goodness sakes. But maybe just a part of me feels a little, well, dead.
I have always written things down. Lists are one of my favorites. And I’m a great note taker. I had a professor in college even tell me so. And I have always kept a journal. That journal has taken on different forms through the years. First it was a diary with a lock and key, hidden under the mattress. Gosh, how fun it is to go back and read that! After that they were always leather bound, some with lines, others more on the eccentric side without lines. Now, it’s here. In the cyber world of blog land.
And I love it. But I really miss it when I am kept away from it.
This past summer I went to a writer’s conference. I was a little embarrassed to tell people at first. I think I still feel a little embarrassed. It’s just one of those things.
You want to do something, but are afraid. Afraid of failing and of what other’s might think. Fear of rejection and of making a fool of yourself. Just all around fear.
I know God has given me a message, just like He gives each of us one. And He’s given me a unique perspective, because no one else has my thoughts and feelings and perspective. We all have that uniqueness and I just love that. He’s given me a passion for things and an urgency to share that through words.
But I’m still just a little fearful.
Ok, a lot.
And now I’m mad at myself for that. Because it’s keeping me from what I love and have a deep desire to do.
There have been different times in my life when I haven’t been able to write. Like in the throws of pregnancy sickness or the newborn baby fog. During deeply painful times in my marriage when I was angry and bitter. While having three kids 3 and under, when all I could do was scribble down little notes here and there. And different times when it just didn’t happen.
So I’m familiar with that feeling of frustration of wanting to, but not being able to.
I don’t know what it is about driving down the road or taking a shower or when I have suds up to my elbows or cooking dinner or cleaning a toilet that inspires me to write. I can always count on those perfect times for a fresh thought to hit me, only to watch it swirl down the porcelain throne with the flush, never to be retrieved again… Ugh!
But this is different. This fear. This insecurity. This less-than-confidence. It’s threatening to take root and so that’s why I must write it out. Process. Bring out into the light that which is threatening to overtake me in the darkness.
This past summer has been a hard one on some levels. Part of me has been shaken to the core. And I really don’t mean to sound dramatic. There is nothing that’s happened that is life threatening or deeply depressing. We are ok and life is so good. But it is life, after all and sometimes things are hard to process and deal with. But everything is for a reason and God can do so much and I am thankful.
When people you love doubt you. When they blame you for wrong and your intention was only for the good. When you never tried to be perfect, only helpful and humble, but are rejected for it. It does something to your soul.
It has done something to mine.
It has brought me to a new place. And I feel a little naked, exposed. Shy and timid. Who am I? What do I have to offer this great big world? What do others need that only I can give? Is there even such a thing? Is it still ok to be me? And what if it happens again?
So here I am. In this place. And I am asking these questions to which I have no answer. Well, not right now anyway. But I know it will come and I am waiting for that moment. When the quivering stops and I feel firm once again in His grip and nothing else even matters.
And I know it will come.
“There is a time for every event under heaven… A time to tear down, and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance… A time to search and a time to give up as lost; a time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A TIME TO BE SILENT AND TIME TO SPEAK…”
It will come.