A couple months ago I was trying to explain a research project that I'd been working on to a friend when he stopped me and said, "Ok, this is just painful. Stop. Maybe you could just write it out for me."
Matt awkwardly divulged to this friend the other day how much this hurt my feelings, and we all joked about it and moved on. He'd already apologized and genuinely felt bad, but it's not that what he said was even a big deal. Most of the time I would just laugh it off because when it comes to storytelling, I sometimes lose my own attention and want to stop listening. No biggie.
The problem was in the timing of the comment.
Recently I'd felt like such a failure in this area, so it was pouring salt on an already open wound. And I know all about open wounds. Leading this Love146 stuff has made me feel like I'm standing naked in front of a crowd and instead of laughing, they're just looking at me with their heads tilted, saying, "Huh."
It's not fun. I'm vulnerable in all the ways I'd rather not be. Let me repeat, it's not fun. But it's good. I know it's stretching me in ways I don't want to be stretched and certainly making me operate out of a place of weakness, which more often than I care to admit, sends me to the god of chocolate instead of to the God of the universe. But, there's hope in the middle of it all. "Tomorrow's freedom is today's surrender," as I move forward, even when my feet feel like they're stuck in the mud.
Maybe there was more to what he said than just the painful truth of it. Maybe it was just what I needed to hear. The little nudge in a positive direction.
Because he's right.
I can write.
Maybe it's time to cultivate it. There's so many things I want my children to know. I never want them to miss the heart of what we want them to learn because I couldn't speak the right words to them.
This is for my babies, so you may know your momma and as much as I can think of to pass onto you when I just can't seem to find the words. I hope all these thoughts that make little sense coming out of my mouth somehow find meaning through plucking at a keyboard. I hope you someday find joy in reading through this and hearing the voice of your mommy.
So thanks, Nate, for finding my stories so painful. ;)