Coming to Terms

When I started blogging six years ago it was out of hitting rock bottom emotionally. Out of feeling utterly defeated and almost suicidal. I have dealt with emotional people all my life. But sometimes it overwhelms a warrior to constantly be in the trenches. It's hard to stay focused when you feel like the battle is all on you. Like God took off somewhere and left you clueless as to where to find Him.
Life was hard, harder than I had ever known. That is when God, in all His infinite grace poured out on me. Telling me to write a blog. Where women and girls who feel like they have absolutely screwed everything up and nothing about them is OK can know they are not alone.
It is meant to be hope in the desert. When a woman feels parched. No well in sight. It's rough around the edges and sometimes a little pushy. Sometimes that is who we have to be. A tough love mom.
But here's the thing, baby girl. Jesus doesn't want to leave us there. He wants to take us higher. He wants to heal us. Set us free. He wants to lead us into the right path and show us our REAL purpose. Too many voices get us spinning in circles and years later we are still scratching our heads wondering why nothing has happened when all along God was whispering in our ears telling us go this way, darling. Not the way man (and you) think/s.
I have taken a lot of slack from many people who think I write this blog so I can tell the whole world about me. Ick. It isn't about me, honey. Five hundred words in a blog entry compared to all day in the trenches. I write about what He does in me. This cracked up little blessed mess of a vessel. Because there are other chicks out there who are random and radical and full of emotions they have no clue what to do with.
The answers I have come to for myself, is do what makes my heart jump. I like to write novel type stuff. And I love to throw poetry in it. But here's the kicker. You notice I said LIKE novel and LOVE poetry. What we love, what we flow in, what comes out of us without even trying- that is where we belong. That becomes our way out, sometimes. Or in the case of God's will, finding our way in.
Years ago I let someone tell me I should be writing for teens, not kids. This was an agent, who led me to an up and coming publisher who published GASP teen stuff. I signed a contract. I spent four years tied up in a knot and the book never came to be. Two and a half more pouring over edits and crap. And all that time I could have been allowing God to teach me to be a better illustrator. A better children's poet. Verse and rhyme pour out of me like mother's milk. And I let humans (all my STINKING life) tell me who I am and need to be.
I had to make up my mind a few months back that I will not follow the voice of a stranger anymore. When I try to be what people expect, I drive myself and everyone around me over the edge. And I.Am.Flipping.Miserable.
No more.
Hear me, sister, Princess when I tell you, if it brings you joy and in your heart you know other's are finding peace through it, then just do what God sent you to the earth to do. You don't go to auto mechanic school to become a heart surgeon. Just be YOU.
It doesn't matter if you have ten thousand subscribers and a huge following, an Aldecott and seventy-five comments for every hurrah you post.
Do what you love. I may never be a Trina Schart Hyman or Longfellow. But I am learning to love me more. Not selfish love. Just... the opposite of HATE kind of love. And I am learning to pray my haters through. Even if they are speaking volumes about me... Even if they curse me to my face (believe me that has happened more than once).
Just be YOU. Me. I am a radical. I am a weirdo. And if I speak of me it keeps me from speaking about them. Let's learn what to do with this hate being spewed at us. Let's learn to use it to help others.


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