Why do I write? I have written all my life...journals, letters, emails, texts, lunch box lovies (as my kids call them), post it notes, blogging, network media, anything I can use to convey my heart with written linguistics. Writing is my chosen form of communication. It is where I feel safely self assured and where I find rhythm. It is the most natural way for me to share my heart. In my writing I do not shrink down as I tend to do in person. I may even stand bolder than I would in person. Bolder in that if your perception of my written word is disapproval or rejection, I do not have to look you in the face to see that- not bolder as in I have permission to speak ugliness over you in my writing and say things I would never say to your person.
I have not kept my garden well since my Granny became ill. The leaves of my beautiful plants were wilted, turning brown and the fruits were shriveling and mushy. When I noticed, I was heartbroken. I LOVE my garden. It is where I meet God each morning and where I get to fill my cup nurturing and watching something I love grow....and they never talk back to me! I get to talk to God and enjoy the gift of nature he bestowed on us. I began to water my suffering plants a little extra and feed them some wonderful nutrients....and of course I spent time talking to each plant and saying a little prayer for it. (remember, it's my quiet time with God most mornings so there aren't really any onlookers to question who I am speaking to). After about a week of extra tlc, my garden is coming back - healthy green foliage, lovely fruits, etc. A few plants did not make it through - their season was over and I had to prune them from the garden. It sounds silly, but every time I have to pull a plant I feel just a little sad. I wonder what I could've done to make it live longer and even when I know there was nothing, I grieve for it for a moment when I throw it over the fence. The cool thing is that every time I give up a plant that is not healthy, the plants that remain take that energy that the sick plants were using and they grow stronger, greener, fruitier.
I spent 30 days on writing ways in which I was kind to myself. I learned that I must be kinder to myself, consistently. I learned that much like I did in my garden, the minute things get overwhelming, I stop taking care of myself and the things I love. I don't write. I don't play in the garden. I don't pray regularly and I don't nurture my healthy habits. And much like my plants, my spirit begins to wilt, and the gifts I have are not distributed because I have become disconnected from my roots...my God.
And now here I am writing for 30 days on vulnerability. That is what brought me to the question....why do I write? Someday I'd love to write and publish a book that touches hearts and changes lives. I've got to start somewhere so I blog, I post, I journal. I want to write with the open heart and sincere heart I have and I pray my writing brings healing not only to myself, but to someone else who is seeking a life of authenticity. If they aren't seeking a life of authenticity and vulnerability makes them uncomfortable, I hope my sharing helps them embrace that discomfort and find what their hearts seek.
That said, I do not only write about a life I hope to life. I mean, I do write my hopes and dreams but I also share my struggles, my joys...my story. (which is still being written). I am a real person. I am not a fictional character. If it ever happens that you read something I have written and you want to visit on the phone, over email, or face to face (my favorite), please let me know. My heart grows from sharing in real life and from hearing your story too. I love how all of our stories entertwine - I think God is the best networker ever.
Sweet dreams cherished ones.
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