Okay guys, I want to be a more consistent blogger. And hopefully narrow my theme.
There are so many things I am passionate about: baking, singing, drinking tea, hospitality, Christian camps, Christian ministry, Church history, reading, kids’ movies, flowers, living wisely, composting/recycling, reading, etc. How do I decide which to focus on?
So I have decided to challenge myself to write a blog post here for 30 days straight. You guys have to be my witness and keep me accountable. I will try to write about all kinds of things I am interested in. Hopefully, I will find that I really click with a certain topic. Otherwise, I may find that blogging really isn’t my thing. Or, even more scarily, that I am not your kind of thing. Perhaps there is nothing I could say here that others would find useful.
Really, that is why I continued to keep this blog.
Originally, it was set up for when I left for college. Then I hoped it would help chronicle my study-abroad trip to Uganda, which (as you know) didn’t happen. I got so anxious about leaving the continent, I ended up giving myself serious anxiety/panic problems, which triggered IBS, which I still have (as well as a ridiculous number of allergens). What this blog lacked was a purpose: a focus.
As I am ADD, that is trouble enough to keep a hold of already.
But the reason I started this and the reason it remains is this: I have a voice. I am worth hearing.
I have always had trouble believing this. I like to blame the fact that I am a middle child, a peacekeeper, and agree-er. I like to take in information and understand things. Oh, how I love to learn. To become proficient–even, to become a resource that can answer others’ questions. But that assumes that I have the nerve to speak up.
I have a younger brother who is bigger than I am. Before he was bigger than I am, he was louder than I am. I can be rather timid and easily frightened. He liked to argue with our mom, because he thought he was always right and that she was being unfair in her rulings (This mostly took place while my dad was deployed in Iraq). Long story short, they would argue. I would try to show him why she was right, and be logical and fair. But since that is not what he wanted to hear, he would turn on me and brusquely say things like, “Who asked you?” and “I didn’t think you were part of this conversation” and “Just stop talking.” Sufficiently cowed, I would retreat to my room and turn up my radio and silently promise myself that I would never butt in or get involved again.
The problem was, I started to believe that I had nothing important to say, and even worse, that my words did not matter. I thought that while I was great at taking words in, I would never have the charisma/extroversion or bravery to let words out. I am ordinary, and *gasp* do not have an unchangeable/definite opinion to offer at any given moment. I struggle with speaking extemporaneously (without preparing for it). I hate when I trip my words up in everyday conversation, because others laugh, and I am ever more convinced that words should not escape my lips. I can’t think very quickly when verbally asked a question, and I am terrified of looking more a fool than I feel.
God called me into ministry, and the first I told God was “just don’t ask me to preach.” But God did. And I do. With much preparation and a manuscript.
This blog is my way of rehabilitating myself, I think.
I know that I cannot fix myself. I know that only God can heal those wounds and help me forgive. I know that only God speaking to me, reminding me that I am God’s special creation and dearly loved, commanding me to speak, will actually coax me into the vulnerability and bravery that it would take for me to speak up more.
This is just a tool.
This free space, along with the few and far between readers who listen in on my musings, is where I remind myself that if I have something to say, that I am worth hearing. I am worth someone’s time.
And that is why I am promising to you that I will write every day for a month. I’m doing it for me.