I’ve overcome one of my greatest fears–writing, publicly. Through the process, I learned how my sense of dread and doubt wanted to boss me into giving up (or never starting in the first place!). But I now know these obstacles are crucifying parts of my journey.
Sometimes, our ego needs to get a grip on Jesus.
I lived most of my childhood as a gypsy, every year in a different town, different school. Only in the last several years have I settled on a remote farm in the heart of Post Oak trees, Coastal Bermuda fields, and pastures of Rye. After living on Okinawa and Germany, roots have taken hold in my small community.
As a creative outlet from the boonies, I had blogged for six years. But in the last couple of years, I discovered God calling me to more long-form expressions than short blurbs in a blog post. And if time and muse permit, I’ll write also fiction about this part of my history, even as fresh new stories pen my future.
For the repressed scaredy-cat in me who has struggled as a closet-poet-writer, the blog was a wake-up, rouble-rousing of my soul. But even in that first, awful beginning, God pushed me out of the nursing nest in order that I may learn to flap my word-wings, a little. And ever since, I’ve been inviting others to join the uncomfortable, stretching, and faith-extending places that God is also calling them too.
Going with God requires obedience and a good dose of bravery. 😊 But we’re well equipped to handle it because God grants us all the supplies we need.
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