So
a week or so ago I was writing a blog in the library and a friend of mine caught
me in the act of posting. They inquired about what I was doing and them asked
for my blog address, and I said no and quickly moved my hand to block the screen. They then proceeded to play with different tags, and names they
believed that I would have used to mark my writings with...... I held my
breath, yet they were coming up with nothing. After this they tried to make a
trade with me by showing me their blog, yet there was still a part of my heart
that was not on board with this trade was it truly fair, is this a trick..... I
said no and moved back to my blog post knowing that if I was in the preparation
phase they could not read my blog address. Yet when I did not think they where
looking I click publishes. That 3 seconds was all they needed they had fond it
and typed it in. I was caught and I was undone.
They
started reading the post they had fond me writing. They finished and dapped my
hand several times, I let out a nervous laugh. Ok great their done and we can
move on. See that was not that ba...what... no what are you doing...
They
started scrolling thought the past entries I fond my self breathing deeply, I
too start to scrolled down faster then them to see if I could beat them to the
next post; to see what they would see, to read the words that I had allowed to
leaked out onto a page. To see my heart in one of its more vulnerable and raw
ways. It was unnerving.
Then
finally I fond one that struck me dead. It was my post on Nick. There was no
real reason why it was this one, other then the fact that out of my posts there
are a few that I remember writing, and this was one. I gasped and could not
hold it in and of course they saw it, they fond the post but before they
started reading they meet my eyes and with the deepest sincerity and asked me
if I was really ok with them reading it. I mumbled off some type of yes,
however not meeting their eyes, my heart pondering so loudly that I could hear
it ringing in my ears. Yet I knew I had not lost their gaze. Again they asked
me. This time I allowed myself to hear their questing and take it in. This time
I allow my self to meet their eyes and replayed with a yes, and that this is
why I have a blog for people to read my thoughts. They then allowed their eyes
to meet the screen and began to start reading.
"Stupid
girl!” "That's spelled wrong.", "You use that type of language?”,
“Well obvious I know why they left." These were the responses that were
going thought my head as they kept reading. And my response...Shit, shit, shit,
shit, shit, shit.
Then
the moment came, they reached the end and looked up.
I
am ashamed that I was taken aback by the words I heard them say, and there in
can't remember them. However I can tell you they were glorious. They were full
of kindness and admiration for my writing. I fond my self kind of frozen, and
they had to ask me if I was ok a few times before I fond my breath again. I
thanked them for there words and tried to think of what else is the
"correct" thing to do next. For me it was to go back to work and not
think about it anymore. To say thank you to words that I was not allowing to
touch my heart. I logically believed them but that was the only place I was
going to allow them to go. Eventually we ended up in my office and started just
hanging out and talking.
Yet
as we sat there I fond that I was defensive. That my words were biting and
catty. After coming to this understanding I started to try and figure out what
had happened, so I could fix my attitude. I fond my self thinking back to what
was going on, really I knew what it was but I did not want to admit it, but
then I had to.
I
was feeling vulnerable.
My
blog holds things in it that are apart of who I am. I am someone who has a voice
that strives to encourage in a real and authentic way. I am a woman who is not
quite and contained but who strives to live with integrity. I am a dreamer who
paints these pages with images of what life could hold and be. I am passionate,
and I fight to allow that to flow in and thought my life. Yet, I am human and I struggle with the finer details of writing, and I run away from the
possibility of getting hurt.
And
I was believing that I was in the line of fire to be hurt.
This
semester has help many moments where I was... disappointed about my learning
disability. It has brought up past memories of the struggles, and the fears
that have come with being born with this. And finding my self once again
exposed before someone who I respect and care about was pushing me over the
edge. So I went into survival mode, I started pushing them away and putting up
walls.
After
I came to this understanding I was left with two options: continue on the
course I had started by slowly backing up and building walls, or I could once
again become vulnerable... Go big or go home...
I
took a breath and owned with this person that I felt my self being defensive
toward them and that I was sorry, They looked at me and said something to the
lines of "Well yah, you were vulnerable and so now you are
overcompensating"..."well yah." They smiled, and once again I
was left touched, they once again talked about my ability to write and how I
have an ability to take ideas and thoughts and put them down in ways that they
did not know how to. That my spelling is bad sometimes but that my thoughts are
amazing and maybe my spelling is what is there to keep me humble. As they spoke
I finally allowed the words they were saying to be taken in by my heart, and I
was left feeling seen, honored, and grateful.
So
you maybe asking, why this blog? Why share this story?
The
reason why is because I want to honor the place of my brokenness, but to also
allow my self to feel the sweetness of who God is in the midst of that. I have
received feedback on my writing since as long as I can remember, however I have
fond my self a little more reserved here at school with my blog, it feels risky
and open to more criticism and or rejection then I would possibly want.
So it felt unexpected and terrifying having my words being fond by a
classmate right before my eyes, yet I was left feeling more seen and cared for
in ways that I wasn't expecting. I am continually aware of the places where my
faith is to small, but my God is not. That he loves me enough to show up in the
little things. This semester I have had some yelling matches with God on my
frustration on how hard this place is for me, how much more work I have to put
in to write a simple paper, to study for a easy test. And really just the angry
that was masking the sad, and lost 6 year old who did not know how to spell her
name.
So
right now I feel overwhelmed by his answer. That I am both seen and heard by
God in what feels like the small and stupid places. That I am not alone. And
that he knows me well enough to bless me with friends who stick with me in the
places where I push back. God knows that I am a relational person and so he
tends to speak into me thought them, and that night it was suppose to be that
specific person.
So
why am I smiling with a peace and joy that only comes from a father? Because he
used a friend who matters deeply to speak into me.
And
I am left feeling grateful.
