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Blooming with the son

I’m a writer by passion.  I can only assume it was God who placed that need within me because He’s laced through everything that flows from my fingertips.  I write to free myself of churning thoughts and conflicting emotions. I write to encourage or to reach out an understanding hand to a hurting heart.

I write because He’s asked me to.

Sometimes I’ll pore for hours over an article only to have just a handful of people take the time to read it.  Other times I’ll tap out a casual post, bereft of perceived extraodinary, and it’ll be pounced on like ants at a picnic.  There’s just no telling and I’ve stopped trying to guess.  {Okay, I haven’t completely stopped trying to guess, but humor me here!}

I’m an average girl, full of insecurities, inabilities and occasional ingenuities.  I blend in with the crowd because I’m ordinary.  Nothing special.  Plain Jane.

Until He plucks me out of that crowd and gives me a moment in a pretty vase for others to glimpse my heart and see that it burns for Him.  Those are my moments because He chooses to share them with me.  But apart from His grace, I’d live my life as moss beneath a rock, deep in the forest.  Never noticed.

The not-noticed times hurt a little.  A friend shared this article the other day and it put glue to the fragmented pieces swirling within.  And it made me realize what I want is not really to be noticed, but to make an impact.  And I simply cannot do that.

Only He can.  And it’s those times when I’m willing to be hid in Him, when I’m not forcing it or making a bigger deal of it than is necessary, that He speaks through my pen.

I have blogging friends who are really going places.  Their Facebook pages have sucked in a steady flow of followers while mine climbs and drops with little noticeable change.  They’re traveling to meetings and conventions and making connections that keep the momentum flowing.  And I’m home because finances won’t allow it or logistics won’t hear of it or because I’m just too chicken to waggle a timid toe in the doorway of such places.

Things are happening around me and sometimes I’m a part of it, but most of the time I’m not.  And because I am made up of the worst kind of selfish, I wish for it to be different.  But then I think, do I really?

I’m quiet and shy (until I’m not, that is) and I’d probably faint if my name or my writing was cutting a steady trail through cyber-space. I like slow and steady.  I like that I’m a little bit of nobody, writing a little bit of something that just might reach the heart of exactly one person who truly needs it.  That is humbling.  That is my pace.

I write from my heart and I try to refrain from posting if I don’t feel the Lord pressing something to it.  But sometimes I forget to invite Him at all.  Sometimes I make it all about me and what I can do and how I can find my place among the somebody’s.

I recently wrote a post that came so easily and seamlessly together that I felt certain the Lord really was guiding my words.  And then almost nobody even looked at it.  Seriously.  My pride was a little bruised.  I was confused.

“But Lord,” I said “where are the people I wrote this post for?”  I waited impatiently while I shamelessly stalked my own blog for page views or comments.  Not happening.  And over on Facebook I was being unliked with unprecedented fury.

“What’s the point?” I fumed.  ”Why take the time to write the words burning a hole through my heart if nobody is going to see them anyway?”

And then, mid-hissy-fit, I felt His answer…

We wrote it for you.  You needed to read it.  I used your hand to write a message for your own heart.

Okay, then.

I’ve decided {again} that I’m okay with being a little person swimming around in all my not-noticed moments.  Because He notices and when the time is right, He’ll share what He’s given me with whoever might need it.  He can create those moments of impact I secretly crave.  Until then, I’m done.

I’m done with trying to push my way where I don’t belong.  I’m done bartering for the spotlight.  I’m done trying to steal His thunder.  I’ll share what I write but that’s where it ends.

I write because I believe He’s asked me to.  And now I sit down, content and humble, because He’s asking for that, too!