first post :: this girl is on fire

The idea of starting this blog in and of itself has made me cry.  Repeatedly, and for a long time.  For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write.  And truth be told, I don’t just want to write for the sake of it, but I want to write because, embarrassing as this is to admit, I’ve been told I’m good at it, and dammit, that feels good.  There’s definitely some part of me that craves that kind of acknowledgement…and I don’t like how *that* detail makes me feel. I think that fact alone has stopped me from doing this so many times before. That, and laziness. But it’s definitely a dream of mine to write a book that legitimately gets published one day. I can picture myself sitting on the sun porch of our oceanside cottage, taking in the glory and vastness of the sea before me, typing furiously, full of grit and inspiration. This all happens in my 50’s or 60’s of course, because we currently live in an actual neighborhood with no ocean.  But still…I can see it.

I also want to write because I think there must be some value in what I have to share. My life has been full of ups and downs, pain and joy, just like anyone else, but with my own unique twist. Being able to connect with people through the written word is an idea that fills me with purpose. It’s especially important to me that the pain I’ve endured and caused in my life doesn’t go wasted. I often say I'm an open book. If being honest about every aspect of my story can bring me closer to God, to others and make us all feel less alone, then I want that.

But here again is where the fear comes in. Because I imagine a lot of you feel like you know me pretty well already. Yet if I begin sharing the details of all the things that move me to tears, I’m certain people I care about will be shocked at some point.  Offended or hurt even. And the people pleasing and empathetic parts of me don’t like hurting and offending people. And honestly, while I’m content to “agree to disagree” and I don’t always need to be right, I also don’t like the idea that someone may disagree with me so strongly that they choose to not know me anymore. (Or worse yet - try to debate me!  Oh the horror!) If a friend said that to me, I would nod understandingly, but also perhaps remind them that people come and go in our lives, and the ones who don’t stay, leave for a reason. And that’s ok. But the part of me that is still wounded from childhood and struggles with abandonment issues and fears rejection more than anything is still scared of that likelihood.

A quote read aloud during church recently hit me in my gut on this very topic. And even as I typed it out tonight, I heard it differently, and louder.  More of a reminder that I’m not alone, no matter what is happening. I’m a child of God and He is always with me, whether I’m aware of His presence or not. I don’t always operate out of that place, but I do truly believe it to be true. This quote feels more like a command, or a pep talk, a battle cry…

“Slow down, stop. Look. Take off your shoes…for holy is all around. Risk getting burned, looking foolish, being wrong. Drop what you are doing and turn aside, to look into every bush, every face, every event of your life – the big and the small, the hoped for and feared, the bad and the good – look into every one of them for God’s presence and call. Believe that whatever is going on, God is in it, and can be trusted. Then finally, if you are still willing, go the last step. Once you have gotten the knack of seeing ‘burning bushes’ everywhere, consent to be set on fire yourself, to be for someone else the presence and call of God. Like Moses without his veil, go ahead and frighten people with your shining face, so full of uncommon light, so alive with unimagined possibility that sometimes the fire scares even you. It may or may not hurt, but we will not be consumed, and we will not be alone. I AM THAT I AM, is with us, will be with you, has been, will be forever, world without end. It all belongs.” – Barbara Blue Taylor

So, here I go. Consenting to be set on fire.

Xoxo.