The other day, I was sitting at a Starbucks with a friend of
mine, engaging in a lot of pointless conversation. We were having such a
fantastic, fun time; we caught up on each other’s lives; we laughed about the
silliness of our friends and family; and we talked about what was going on in
our churches.
It was such a light-hearted conversation! In the middle of
it, I stopped and took note: The two of us had been through some significant
challenges in our lives. We’ve had many conversations that were heavy and
tear-filled. We’ve prayed together, cried together, and held out hope for many
wonderful things that have come to pass (and are coming to pass), and she truly
is one of my greatest friends. I cherish her friendship more than she knows.
This conversation was one of the reasons why: Even in the
midst of issues we’re both dealing with, we still found time to laugh about
random people in the parking lot at Starbucks.
At one point, the conversation turned to writing. I love to
write. I haven’t blogged in forever; I told her it was because I was “happy.” I’ve
always thought I wrote my best stuff when I was struggling, or drowning. Writing
has always challenged me to find my anchor, and to look up. It’s a way I
refocus. My friend, however, writes every single day. She journals faithfully,
and I was challenged. How can I call myself a writer, if I hide my “happy?”
Doesn’t every emotion deserve to be explored? Shouldn’t I celebrate the
mountains along with the valleys?
Then I thought about “what does my ‘happy’ look like on
paper?” Is it as deep as my ‘struggle?’ Do I feel like it can touch as many
lives? Is there a point in writing my random rants at Starbucks?”
Hmmm….
I’m not intentionally funny. I don’t set out to write things
that make people laugh, yet I hear “you’re so funny on Facebook!” all the time.
I truly wonder what people are laughing at?!?
But, I’m glad they’re enjoying it…
I have gotten back into a habit of filtering what I write
just a little too much. I’ve gotten a little bit canned, and a little too
conservative. I think I’m going Stepford, and I don’t like it. Maybe it’s
because my mother is on Facebook, and I’m
afraid of what she’ll say? Maybe it’s because my church friends are on
Facebook, and I’ll have to face them on Sunday morning?I don’t know…and you
know what? I don’t care.
I’m going to write my thoughts, rants, and possibly
offensive blogs. I’m going to write, because the mountains, valleys, and
pratfalls all deserve their story. If you find it funny, great. If you find it
offensive, I’m sorry. Actually, I’m not. Go read something else. There are
plenty of people on Facebook that post things that I find absolutely
ridiculous. If I have to read one more post about pseudo-injustice, I’m going
to hurl. There are TRUE injustices in this world that deserve our attention,
yet people want to stand on soapboxes for the DUMBEST subjects EVER.
My only soapbox is Jesus. That’s it. This is my blog-I’m
going to stop being afraid of politics.
I’m going to stop being afraid to say when something has truly angered
me, or when I find something truly ridiculous.
The gloves are off—it’s time to get real. This literary
Stepford wife has just been shot in the head.
Welcome to my blog.
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