I sit at my desk, hands poised over the keyboard, the cursor flashes a perfect cadence as I stare blankly. I shift my gaze to the world just beyond the window —outside, the gentle breeze rustles through the trees and the sunlight dances with their sway, shadows sprawl across the lawn, treetops shine brightly against blue sky, and my soul is shattered.
I should be tapping out words, but my mind is a black hole of nothingness. The words —they bubble up and press upon me trying to escape, but I sit frozen.
Words live in the thrum of my heart. Vital to my very breath, they sing to the story of me. Words draw me in and carry me across lands, they woo me into God’s sweet embrace. They cause me to seek Him.
Today the words are clouded by thoughts of not enough, my story does not matter, who am I to think I should write, what do I have to contribute to the sea of writers that flood the internet?
Let’s be real, with over 3 million blog posts written just today, what difference is my one meager offering of a post going to make?
What does one do in such an insecure situation? Obviously, turn to the internet itself —because nothing is more soul soothing and peace giving then all the social media, right?
No. No, it’s not.
But I do it anyway.
I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate. Romans 7:19 (NLT)
I begin reading other blog posts, articles, chapters of books and I think what if I wrote about deep theological things, or what if I wrote in this prose, what if I added more humor, more tips, more, well, you get the picture.
If only I could change who I am, write like (fill in the blank), raise my kids like (fill in the blank), be a wife like (fill in the blank)? Be anything except for me.
Haven’t we all been here?
This is what happens when you try to find your reflection in the mirror of the world, in everyone else’s perfect and best pictures, words, and stories.
I know this is not what God wants from me. I know He does not want me looking to the world to see who I am. He wants me to know that He created me.
He wants my eyes fixed to His. He wants me to know I am fearfully and wonderfully made. He wants me to know that before time began He had me in His heart. He created me for such a time as this, for this life, for this family, for this story.
He does not want me striving to be somebody else, striving to live into their story.
Who am I to deny this?
God created me.
God gave me a story.
God told me to write.
So here I am, me being me, living into my story and writing it my way.
Do you struggle to be you? Do you live in the shadows wishing to be someone else?
I encourage you to ask God who He created you to be.
And when He answers, and He will answer —I challenge each of you to live into your story.
Yes! Our voices are important, our stories are vital. They are part of who we are and who God created us to be. Each person, being made in His image, is a fraction of a piece of the bigger God puzzle. We each provide that tiny piece of the picture that when culminated, creates the beauty that is the Creator Himself. Our stories matter…they matter to us, they matter to God. We can only successfully be who He made us to be, we can’t be who He made someone else to be…they are already taken. Your words matter….our lives matter….for we are His mirror, reflecting back His image to the rest of the world. I love this Shelly!!
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Great words Shelley! Love to read each unique story,’including yours. Keep writing girl! 😘