The Like Button

The words are missing.

I don't even know why.

I have things I want to say but the words...they just don't seem right. I write something and the hit delete. Then I write a bit more and...delete. Then I think I have it and...wait for it... d e l e t e!

Why are the words so hard to find today? Why am I trying to write when I don't have the words? What is my purpose? Where did my voice go?

At the end of the day, I find myself writing stories in my head each and every day. I think I've done it my whole life.

Sometimes I dreaming of a world I want. Sometimes I'm dreaming of a world that could be. Sometimes I'm trying to correct things in my life.

Today...I'm just writing. There are no words but I write. My thoughts are jumbled but I write. My fears are growing but I write.

I don't understand why I continue to write. I have a few faithful friends and family that read but mostly, it would be safe to say this is just a journal. It seems to make little to no difference in life.

I'm just another person with a blog. Doesn't everyone have a blog now?

I don't have a niche, maybe just a glitch. I'm not clever or funny or witty. I'm not an authority on anything. I don't have a fantastic story to share. I don't have tales from far away places. I just write.

I feel like all I write about right now is that I write.

I think it's because I'm hiding.

I'm hiding from sharing what's really inside.

I'm an insecure person. Yep. I said it. I have lots and lots of fears. Anxiety and I are old friends.

I want to write my book. I want to share on my blog. I want to put it out there but then... maybe no one reads it. Or maybe no one comments. Or no one hits the "like" button.

Then I laid it all out there and well, I proved myself right...no one is there. I'm all alone.

I know it's not true but then little things happen to confirm my fears. I have friend who have never read a word I've written. I have family that didn't know I wrote. I have been blogging for years and no one follows me. I have my steady 30 readers and then something different happens.

I share these feelings and fears with a few close friends. One quotes me. I almost cry. One said, "Wow 30 readers" and then commented that she thinks I might be the only one on earth that would read her blog. Then my blog gets shared on another page and more than 100 people read one post.

It felt really good. I was excited. But the comparison game starts...

I look at a blog that I have seen several of my friends share. This woman writes less than I do and man when she does write, thousand and thousands read what she wrote. They share it and share it and it goes viral every single time.

Then I read another blog. This guy doesn't even know what he's talking about and he has thousands of followers.

I try to tell myself these things don't matter but in the end, I think the "like" button is ruining my life. I wait to see how many hits I get, how many likes, how many comments. I check over and over and over. I look at the stats obsessively.

Then I almost break and I try to talk myself off the ledge. I call some close girlfriends and get reminded of the truths I know. I know I have a way with words. I know I am able, capable and called. I can hear my mother's voice very clearly. She encourages me to keep writing.

I allow my friends to remind me that I like writing. That I'm good at it. That I wasn't out to be the biggest, badest, bestest. I just wanted to write what was on my heart and in my mind.

So I start a blog and I babble a lot. I write about writing. I write to get it out. I have fears and anxiety about writing. I don't ever feel like I'm enough or even have the right words to write.

Today, I won't fret too much. It's really not about the "like" button. I will not let it ruin my life. After all, Facebook could come out with a "dislike" button. Then I certainly would have lots to fret about...like how many "dislikes" would I get?

My life is an open book...

So have you ever heard people say their life is an open book? Okay, I'm sure you have. I've been know to say it on occasion as well. I tend to think my life is not only an open book but that I am also very transparent and open.

I think that I'm one to put it all out there. I believe that this is one of the things that makes us accountable in life. If my close friends and family know what's going on with me, they can help me and keep me accountable. This is how we grow. 

But then I have a bad moment. Okay, okay, okay, a bad day, week, whatever. It was not good. Then I get called on the line and held accountable for my attitude, my actions and my words. All of the sudden, I don't wanna be an open book anymore. 

I'd rather be like that book at the bottom of a teenager's locker. You know the ones. They sit at the bottom of the mess and collect all sorts of things. They get spilled on and then the pages start to stick together. When you try to pry them open you tear pages and words are lost or censored. There are stains covering certain parts and it becomes a bit of a mystery as to the details inscribe in the book. 

I want to want to look like that sad book with the binding pulling away so that at any moment a certain page or two could just drop out and disappear from the book. 

But alas, this is not the case. And frankly, as embarrassing as my bad moments (or weeks) are, they are part of me. I am a whole story. Every part is important. Every word is part of the story. Without a page or two, the book or rather my life are just not the same. 

So today, as I sit in my car waiting on a kiddo at an activity, I came to realize just a few things. First, I'm a writer and so I write. I do not plan to make my family blog a beautiful blog full of pictures of my family's activities. I probably will not keep people up to date with this ones activities and that ones interest. I just write. That's who I am. I've come to this conclusion before and now I'm holding myself accountable to write and every day. It may not always be a blog post but I'm gonna write!

Second thing I concluded is that I have found my voice. I don't know who the reader is but I know I have my voice. It's something I thought I'd never find. It's something I thought I would struggle to find my whole life. 

Lastly, I am not in pursuit of fame and riches or millions of followers. I aim to write because that's the person God created me to be. I am true to Him and no one else. I know some days I find it hard to hear Him but today I have clarity. For that I am thankful and so I write. 

Okay, I better stop writing today so I have something to write about tomorrow. Thanks for listening. 

One less reader...

So I feel like writing is just something that just comes naturally. Sometimes I struggle finding the perfect words at first but it doesn't take long for me to find them. I may hit delete a few times and start again, but in the end I usually find the words.

I've heard people talk about writer's block and I've been blessed to not experience that yet. I know many people who cannot seem to put their thoughts into words and into print. For me, that is not a problem.

I have to thank my mom. She seems to be the fire behind my passion. She was a wonderful writer. She had all sorts of talents, though I feel she never really saw them for what they were. I love what she did for me. She edited every piece of written work I wrote for years.

I would like to think she would be so proud of me. I would like to think she would be cheering me on as I write. I would like to think she would be the perfect editor for the book I will write.

But what's really interesting is I had other cheerleaders and I never knew it.

My grandma passed away last month. My dad & I traveled to her funeral. It was so weird. I got to see my cousins, some of whom I hadn't seen in 19 years. I realized I spent almost every Christmas at my Grandma's house with family growing up...and then. Well, we all grew up and had our own families. We stopped coming around at Christmas by the time we were teens.

All of the sudden, I felt really horrible. My grandma had probably been trying to get us all together again for years. We didn't do it until she was gone. My heart hurt.

Why? Why do we wait to get together? Why do we all talk about getting together and then never do?

Well, it was nice to get together. I missed my cousins and even got to spend time with some of my family with whom we never really got to spend time.

And then there were the scrapbooks...

Grandma scrapbooked a lot! She took this to a new level. She started scrapbooking before you could buy supplies at the craft stores, before you could easily copy pictures, before all the cute papers and embellishments.

As I looked through her scrapbook, I realized my Grandma kept track of everything in my life even if I didn't do the best to keep her in the loop. She had pictures of my girls every year. I had sent them, but I guess I never realized they were going into a scrapbook with a section dedicated to my girls. She even had pictures of major events at which she did not attend. My mom must have sent her some photos.

Then as I poured through the books, my cousin told me she read my blog every time. I never knew. I had no idea. She read every word I wrote. She was faithful to keeping in touch even though I did not pick up the phone, even though I did not write, and even though I had stopped visiting for the past few years.

Since she passed away, I haven't really wanted to write this post. It was the realization that I had one less reader. I don't have many reader or followers. I don't have many that keep in touch. I don't care if the world reads what I write. I write because God gives me the words to write. I write because I have a story to tell. I write to process life. I write because I love it and because my mom would have loved it. I write so often in honor of my mom.

Today...

Today I write in honor of my Grandma. I wish I would have know she was reading what I wrote...I would have written more to keep her in the loop. I wish I would have know about her scrapbooks...I would have sent more pictures. I wish I would have known...

I didn't know because I didn't call enough. I didn't know because I stopped visiting the past four years. I didn't know because I never asked.

Somehow, my Grandma ended up being my biggest cheerleader and I never knew. My Grandma was almost 90 when she passed. She had a cell phone. She had Facebook. She read Blogs. My Grandmas was a techie...

She followed me. I wish I would have know.

The aftermath

There is a silence that came after the storm.

I never quite know what grieving will bring. Some years I cry a lot. Some years I have trouble leaving my house. Some years I feel sick and some times I actually get sick. Some years things just feel slow.

This year I was tired. Very tired.

In some ways I wish it was "a lot of crying" kind of year. When I cry and cry I expect to be emotionally exhausted and then somehow being tired makes sense. Sleeping all day seems to be in order and not wanting to leave my house is okay because I've been crying all day.

This year I was just tired. Of course my grieving doesn't seem to care that I have a lot to get done. It doesn't seem to notice that my tree was still up two weeks into the New Year. It doesn't seem understand there are science projects to work with children and homework to be checked and dinner to be made. It doesn't even bother to wait for a better moment.

Grief comes. It is always present on the anniversaries and through most holidays.

I have been keeping up with my goals this year but it seems like they are running me right now. I know it is a season and so I keep moving forward. I know this will pass and the words will come again. I know that once they do they will come with ease. I know that when I write, I feel free again. I know that I feel all of it like it was yesterday though it was a lot of yesterdays ago. I know I will "catch up" with life and right now I'm just tired.

My "to do" list is always long. It gets a little longer this time of year when I force too many things till tomorrow being I am tired. I'll catch my breath and I'm not worried. I'm just expressing my thoughts and somehow that keeps me looking up, seeing the sunshine, finding the silver lining and living today though I am tired by the yesterdays that brought so much grief.

Today...I am still tired and there is a growing pile of things with which I will need to deal. Today...I will do what I need to do. Today...I will focus on the fact that I'm a little "out of focus" and I'm okay with that. I love seeing me in the soften edges of being "out of focus." I do not worry or fret.

Tomorrow I will see what I need to do and see what I can find the energy to do. Today...this is the end of my list. I wrote my thoughts. I see my feelings. I am moving. That's all.

I think I'm going to take a few more moments for me and make a little something for one of my kiddos with this:

Legacy...what is mine?

Legacy is an interesting thing. As an adult I have often thought about what kind of legacy I want to leave to my children, my family, my friends and the world I impact. But the thing I have been thinking on recently is: “What legacy was left to me?”

My mom. That is a sentence all on it’s own. She left an amazing legacy to me. One of the reasons I write today is because of her. I watched her search for the words to write her story my entire life. When she passed away, she had not written that story. I’m not sure if she had been given 100 years if she would have even written that story. It was in her heart and mind and she lived it everyday but when it came time to write, she had no words.

Mom & I on Mother's Day when I was about 4 years old

I remember one Christmas her youngest sister Barby gave her a beautiful leather bound journal to begin writing those words. Aunt Barby had gone through ever couple of pages and wrote inspiration quotes or scriptures so that as she progressed through the pages, she would have a little note to inspire her. When she passed away, I found the journal on the bookshelf next to her computer. My mom had not written one single word in this journal. She had been so touched to receive it but she never used it. I now have this journal and have not written one single word in it either. But, just as my mom did when she received it, I have paged through all the pages and read all of my Aunt’s beautifully scripted handwritten quotes and for me, it has inspired me.

I am not walking in my mother’s footsteps. I am not waiting for the perfect words or idea to get published. Being my mom was an editor at a large Christian publishing company for many years, she knew what people would read, what editors would read, and what would sell. I, however, do not. I just put my life into words that probably no person would pay to read. That’s okay with me. The legacy my mom left was one she never walked but yet it exuded from her all the time. She was going to write her story and because she didn’t, I am writing mine and some of it is hers.

Another legacy was one my mom’s mom left to me. Though she is still her, there was a legacy that she instilled in my mom that was passed on to me. My grandma walked a legacy of independence. This independence was born because she was widowed very young with three small girls. She raised them all on her own and didn’t remarry until around the time her girls were marrying. She walked this walk in amazing grace and confidence and I have looked to that many times.

My grandma and her three girls (my mom is the oldest).

All my life, the lesson I heard over and over, though not always verbally but more in action, was that I needed to learn to be independent because you never know what will happen. I often shrugged this off to the side thinking this would never be my life. Unfortunately it was. I was a young widow with young girls. I had to learn to do it all. When the car broke, I had to figure out how to take care of it. When the girls were sick, I had to get them to the doctor. These may have been things I had done on my own in the past, but now I had to do them on my own. There was no one else but me.

Or so I thought. One other legacy that has been left me by many generations and many family member was one of Christ. I am a daughter of the King. This is a legacy my grandparents on both sides, my aunts and uncles, my parents and my cousins have all walked. We are God’s and we do not have to do it all. We are not alone.

Mom's Family

Dad's Family

I don’t know what my kids will say is the legacy that I left them was. I do know some of the legacies left to me: writing, independence and God. I guess I will just keep writing my story and maybe someday my kids will write theirs. As long as God is the author and I am only an editor, I can’t see how this can be anything be a glorious legacy of God’s will for me.

Up and running…

Our family does not make New Year Resolutions. Instead, we make goals in three areas: God, family and personal. This year I committed to several things. Some I have accomplished already. Some are in the works and others I have fought the entire way. Every few months I look at my goals to see where I am.

Needless to say, I’m up and running. I am running in the blessings of the “already accomplished goals.” I am seeing the finish line on the “in the works goals.” The ones with which I am fighting, those still sit on my “to do list” every day and I poke them. Sometimes I scratch them, but I struggle to just “do” them.

One of the things I have been fighting with is this Blog. I am a writer. I don’t know that I was born a writer, but it was definitely a skill set that was nurtured in me by my mom. She was a writer. She loved to write. Somehow in her passing, I found my voice and now feel writing is honoring her.

So why commit to Blogging but then fight it? No one is asking me to do this (or rather no person is asking me to do this.) I do feel that God is asking me to become vulnerable through my writings in order to stretch out my hand of service in a “new” venue. I love the face to face chats. I love meeting my girl friends for coffee (even at their house or in mine) or chips and salsa or dinner. I love to see their face when we chat. I love to see the tears and let them see mine. I am very transparent with my gals and vulnerable in person.

Blogging is the same but different. I am being transparent and vulnerable, but I do not hear your voice, see your face and experience your emotions. I say it; it’s out there; there is no taking it back.

So why do I feel God is calling me to this? What could possibly be the purpose of Him calling me to Blog? Well, one of the first things I wrote opened doors I thought were bricked over. From that moment, I have experience the same thing over and over. I have renewed friendships. I have deepened relationships. I have peace in areas of my life that were wrestles. So why do I fight?

Well just because I have been blessed by this does not make it easier, it should but doesn’t. I do want to say this to those who listen, thank you. I don’t know who you are always and that’s the way it was designed. I pray that God uses me daily to spread His word and not mine. I ask that if this has “touched” you to share it. Oh and right up front I’m going to say I know I am long winded…I guess I have more to say than I thought.

I am living out my calling in ways I would not have designed for myself. All the same I know for sure that I am doing for what He has called me. I pray for all who listen that God will bless your lives. OK, back to being up and running…no more fighting here.