Recently I had a sit-on-the-floor/stand-on-a-chair experience, which happens when I get suuuuper passionate. Which is often. On Instagram I shared about wanting to unclimb the Someone ladder and was struck with reverent surprise at your responses. Email after email of “me too.” Which prompted more sitting and chair standing and passionate exclaiming and having to sit down (again) so this proclamation could emerge.
I feel compelled to share this with you. Because I know many of you are wondering, craving, asking similar questions, sensing comparable stirrings, are noticing what makes you feel alive and what feels like lead in the pit of your being. You’re wanting to live differently and unsure how. While we may yet to have answers, perhaps sharing this with you will spark more of what makes you alive. And that’s always worth paying attention to.
That said, I offer my Proclamation as a Writer and Soul Carer
From this day forward I will embody where God breathes and stirs and I note this by feeling lighter inside. This includes writing what I’m learning, processing pain, asking questions, making sense through honest confessions and putting all the pieces together- not all at once- but slowly, like sowing seeds days, weeks, decades apart until one day I’ll look and see a garden bursting with blooms. When did that flower sprout? That leaf grow? That bud open? I haven’t the slightest. What I do know is all of the scattered seeds creates a beautiful scenery from our journeys. Our stories of suffering and surrender and settling into our Spirit indwelled souls. There doesn’t need to be a rhyme or reason. That is, after all, why some flowers are referred to as wild. No arrival. No clear path or intention. Just flung and scattered and growing toward the sun. Beautiful. No blossom the same.
I digress. Just the talk of wildflowers sends me into a frantic frenzy of giddiness.
I am a writer who longs to share my experiences and shortcomings wrapped in God’s grace. I am a soul carer, a one-day director. An adventurous homebody who sits-on-my-couch and listens and paves a safe, grace space of permission and compassion. One who is journeying daily what it is to become me, to know God intimately through pain and pissed off questions and mercy. Oh, how I need mercy. And I need all the permission to be a writer who doesn’t do all the things. You too? Do you need permission to not do it all? I am blocked when I come to the page feeling like I have to lead you to an arrival, a destination. Those type of books make me want to throw up in my mouth. Which is why for a season, I agonized, prayed, sought the Lord. Why God did you make me with a need to write only to feel paralyzed and blocked?
And then one night, I realized why.
I’m a writer who doesn’t like self promotion. I write to make sense of life. I don’t need the additional life-sucking responsibility of putting those words in a beautiful image with a meme and tweetable quote and then tell you to buy my words. I write to feel alive. The rest sucks me dry.
My proclamation is to pave a new path. To write my heart out. With an even greater intensity and raw honesty and no-hold back discovery that as I journey a life of faith, of noticing Him lead, of paying attention to what feels light and shimmery and enveloped in content sighs and my truest self, I must simply write.
I seldom market or speak from stages anymore. I don’t network or guest blog or climb the christian celebrity ladder. I lay the ladder down and cozy myself in between the rungs. I invite you to scoot close so that I may listen to your journey and realize yours started a million acres, miles, lives ago, and yet here we are. Sitting next to each other. Breathing air and knowing the journey is the destination. Not having the answer is the answer. Here there’s no striving. No stress. No social media machine to feed. Just thoughts and listening to His gentle voice and writing. Then listening more. Being still. More words. More life. More awakening. More of who He wants us to be. I can’t do all the things. The thought tires my spirit. But words and listening and hearing your journey? Your exquisite, unique, valuably needed journey? I want to be a part of that. Our paths will collide again or they won’t. But for this season in this time of history in this heart space, I’m most fully alive as a writer. Simply a writer. And my soul exhales for this is my truth.
I wonder, what’s your proclamation? What brings life? What doesn’t? As always, I welcome your thoughts here, or if you’d rather, email me, or better yet, come sit on my porch. Now that? That makes my heart happy.