It Is Well

Recently, I find my mind bogged and overloaded more moments than not. Sleep is restless, dreams are chaotic and vivid and thoughts scatter into nowhere. It isn’t that I’m afraid. I’m not overly worried or anxious about what is to come. There is though a depth of feeling that somehow seems to overshadow everything else from time to time. An urging of more. That more though, can be elusive and undefined if not searched for in the right place.

Since I was a teenager writing has been second nature to me. Short stories, poems, even just devotionals that no other eyes but mine would see have taken up an enormous amount of space in my life. When the need to vent, connect or simply process the current events around me, “pen to paper” has always come to the rescue. For years, I thought it was just a past time, a hobby that would never amount to anything…but then as my relationship with God deepened and changed, I realized there was purpose.

Now, I want to be honest before going any further and tell you that I had no interest in being used by God this way (and some days that still holds true). I’m stubborn, a little vain, a control freak, and somewhat obnoxious (those that know me will insert an eyeroll here because of the word somewhat). I sometimes do the wrong thing. I often times say the wrong thing. I’m also positive that were my high school English teacher or college Lit professor to read these posts, they would be quick to tell me my punctuation and sentence structure are atrocious. I have good intentions but that doesn’t necessarily mean the outcome is always good does it? It’s HARD, this saying yes thing. It’s hard to admit that you think God wants to use your words on a public platform. It’s hard to put a piece of yourself into the world for everyone to see and judge; for everyone to decide whether or not you are “good enough”. It’s also doubly hard when you are criticized, mocked and disregarded. After all, no matter what we tell ourselves and how we strive to rise above the things of the world, the flesh still craves the love of man. If I thought it was hard saying yes, I got my socks knocked off when I realized my words would offend in one way or another.

This blog is something so far outside of my comfort zone, I avoid it when I can. I never sit down to write unless there is a prompting to do so and even then, sometimes I don’t fully know the direction I will head in until the words begin to spill out. I started this site about two years ago as a way to get myself comfortable with having this side of me in the public (having no idea that I would be sharing such a personal part of my life with you). I was trying yo create a comfortability with strangers seeing into who I am, who I am trying to grow into. Ya’ll. IT IS TERRIFYING. I’ve posted a few of these now and it never gets any easier to let everyone in. I wanted to open myself up a little because there is a day coming when I will open myself up a lot. I have been working on a book that will hopefully be published in the next couple years. (We can talk about that train wreck another time though. I only mention it in my explanation because I want you to see who and where I am at in this whole thing.)

All of that leads me right back to where I sit now, typing these words. When I first started hearing that still small voice in my head, it wasn’t for my benefit. There was never a moment when God and I talked about all of this that I thought it was for me. From the very beginning I have wanted to use what ever platform I have, whatever voice He gives me, to reach others. I especially want to reach those women who sit alone in the dark believing no one else will care or listen. Even when I found out what my life would hold over the next few months, I thought about how it could be used and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to make goodness come from a terrible situation.

Don’t think I am (or fancy myself) some sort of martyr. Haha. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It took time for me to come to terms with all of it. I did struggle through the why’s and the don’t want to’s. I stood at my bathroom sink and cried because of what I was facing, how it would affect my relationship with my husband, what it meant for my children. I worried about how I would look during and after the process. But then peace came. I was reminded, again, by that still small voice that I’d already been given the tools to process this. I was reminded that I had already been given victory over this. I was reminded that my circumstances can and should be used to remind others that victory is theirs too.

I don’t write this because of the attention it might get. I don’t write this for the likes or shares. The thing is, I don’t have dreams of grandeur. I don’t think my words will be used to change the world. They might be used to change a life or two though and if I’m blessed enough for that to happen, then it’ll be good enough for me to say mission accomplished and well worth the toll the writing takes.

I write for the lady who sent me the message thanking me for being willing to be honest about what this feels like. I write for the woman who tagged her friend in it, a friend who is facing a similar situation and doesn’t know how to deal with it.

And I guess, in some small way, I do write for me. To quiet the chaos. To reign in the scattering thoughts. To do the thing I think I have somehow been asked to do. I write in obedience. I write out of love. I write with the hope that someone, somewhere is comforted. I share my story in the hopes that others will find the courage to share theirs.

I write for the freedom that it gives me and the peace He provides me.

I write tonight and pray with each word that you too can find your way, your path, victory over your circumstances and the peace to say, it is well with my soul.