"Nothing can dim a light that shines from within." Maya Angelou
I began blogging ten years ago when we moved to Texas. I began on MySpace logging our story and keeping family and friends in touch with our lives; especially our first born who was 15 months old at the time. The core of my blog was memories and milestones of our first born and our first experiences in a new place. I had a lot of material between being in the throws of transitioning from career-woman to stay-at-home-mom and moving from California to Texas. Content changed the day our lives changed with miscarriage.
My blog shifted from my baby's firsts to the tragedy of loss. I found solace in writing; especially writing about the silent trauma of miscarriage. I wrote almost as if I were writing in my diary instead this time, all the world got to read my junk. I found that initially, I was my own audience. I needed to write the words and get them all out purging my emotions onto the page. Then, a funny thing happened. My audience grew. No longer was I just speaking to myself. Rather, women came to me letting me know they needed the words; my words.
Writing has always been a place of refuge for me. It's an outlet. I never meant for it to be anything more than me getting all my feels out on a page. I am not an expert on anything. I am just a girl trying to live my best life raising these three precious humans right, loving my husband well, staying true to myself, and loving God by loving others.
Over the years, I have had people tell me I should pursue writing. I'm talking, the first person to speak this over my life was almost twenty years ago. You can see how well I listen. I'm the learning type. A little stubborn, perhaps. But, here's the deal, God is persistent.
About a year ago, I decided I was going to write a book. I figured I might as well take the advice from others (insert eye roll) and see what this whole writing thing was about. I wrote a title and sub-title and saved my Word document. I didn't look at that thing again until this fall. I told you. I am stubborn.
"The things you are passionate about are not random, they are your calling." Fabienne Frederickson
Life happens. It gets in the way of our dreams. Insecurities can shut you down. I kept blogging because, quite frankly, it's my passion. I am energized after I write a post. I feel alive when I am done. Accomplished. It doesn't matter how many people read it. What matters to me is getting the words out of my head and onto a page.
Here's the deal. I convinced myself I wasn't good enough to write a book. I am not equipped. I went to school to be a teacher not a writer. I am not well-versed in theology. I am a believer not a theologian. I am just a mom trying to keep everyone fed and clothed each day. I am no one special.
I have found that it doesn't matter who I am because I am His. My job isn't to try and become someone. My job is just to be me. God will do the rest. I have found that the more I stay true to myself, the more honest I am, the more God works. He is my audience.
Dream big. Work small.
What I do each day blogging is minuscule. I look at my readership and then I look at this great big world and see the head of a pin. My work is small. I am learning, however, that it is in the small spaces where dreams are made. I decided that the ordinary every day woman needed a voice; a space where she matters and her life matters. That's the core of this dream. I don't have all the answers. I pray through my writing, I can elicit women to create communities where the answers about life and faith intersecting can work themselves out. And, if there are no answers to be found because sometimes its just all too complicated, I pray this space can be a soft place to land; to rest.
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master!'" Matthew 25:21
I want to be faithful with the small stuff because I believe with all my heart that it's the small stuff that really matters. I want to enter into the joy of my God as I reroute my journey from the little stuff to a very big dream.
God instilled these passions in me. He gave me the "gift of gab" as my grandma would say. It all started way back in elementary school when I'd get comments like, "pleasure to have in class," paired with, "talks excessively." I've got a word problem. I need to get them out. Come to my house and everywhere you turn there are words. I am surprised my kids don't have nightmares about letters chasing them in their sleep. One of my boys even got a black eye from running into a pallet I hung because I had to paint these words on them. This isn't a bad thing. This part of me isn't to be hidden. This is a design thing and the Designer is calling me to be bold.
I encourage you today on your journey. I don't know where you are but I do know that oftentimes, we stifle our dreams. It doesn't matter the reason. We just do. It is time to realize our passions aren't random. Dust those dreams off and getting moving. We need you. Man, do we need you.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
I began blogging ten years ago when we moved to Texas. I began on MySpace logging our story and keeping family and friends in touch with our lives; especially our first born who was 15 months old at the time. The core of my blog was memories and milestones of our first born and our first experiences in a new place. I had a lot of material between being in the throws of transitioning from career-woman to stay-at-home-mom and moving from California to Texas. Content changed the day our lives changed with miscarriage.
My blog shifted from my baby's firsts to the tragedy of loss. I found solace in writing; especially writing about the silent trauma of miscarriage. I wrote almost as if I were writing in my diary instead this time, all the world got to read my junk. I found that initially, I was my own audience. I needed to write the words and get them all out purging my emotions onto the page. Then, a funny thing happened. My audience grew. No longer was I just speaking to myself. Rather, women came to me letting me know they needed the words; my words.
Writing has always been a place of refuge for me. It's an outlet. I never meant for it to be anything more than me getting all my feels out on a page. I am not an expert on anything. I am just a girl trying to live my best life raising these three precious humans right, loving my husband well, staying true to myself, and loving God by loving others.
Over the years, I have had people tell me I should pursue writing. I'm talking, the first person to speak this over my life was almost twenty years ago. You can see how well I listen. I'm the learning type. A little stubborn, perhaps. But, here's the deal, God is persistent.
About a year ago, I decided I was going to write a book. I figured I might as well take the advice from others (insert eye roll) and see what this whole writing thing was about. I wrote a title and sub-title and saved my Word document. I didn't look at that thing again until this fall. I told you. I am stubborn.
"The things you are passionate about are not random, they are your calling." Fabienne Frederickson
Life happens. It gets in the way of our dreams. Insecurities can shut you down. I kept blogging because, quite frankly, it's my passion. I am energized after I write a post. I feel alive when I am done. Accomplished. It doesn't matter how many people read it. What matters to me is getting the words out of my head and onto a page.
Here's the deal. I convinced myself I wasn't good enough to write a book. I am not equipped. I went to school to be a teacher not a writer. I am not well-versed in theology. I am a believer not a theologian. I am just a mom trying to keep everyone fed and clothed each day. I am no one special.
I have found that it doesn't matter who I am because I am His. My job isn't to try and become someone. My job is just to be me. God will do the rest. I have found that the more I stay true to myself, the more honest I am, the more God works. He is my audience.
Dream big. Work small.
What I do each day blogging is minuscule. I look at my readership and then I look at this great big world and see the head of a pin. My work is small. I am learning, however, that it is in the small spaces where dreams are made. I decided that the ordinary every day woman needed a voice; a space where she matters and her life matters. That's the core of this dream. I don't have all the answers. I pray through my writing, I can elicit women to create communities where the answers about life and faith intersecting can work themselves out. And, if there are no answers to be found because sometimes its just all too complicated, I pray this space can be a soft place to land; to rest.
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master!'" Matthew 25:21
I want to be faithful with the small stuff because I believe with all my heart that it's the small stuff that really matters. I want to enter into the joy of my God as I reroute my journey from the little stuff to a very big dream.
God instilled these passions in me. He gave me the "gift of gab" as my grandma would say. It all started way back in elementary school when I'd get comments like, "pleasure to have in class," paired with, "talks excessively." I've got a word problem. I need to get them out. Come to my house and everywhere you turn there are words. I am surprised my kids don't have nightmares about letters chasing them in their sleep. One of my boys even got a black eye from running into a pallet I hung because I had to paint these words on them. This isn't a bad thing. This part of me isn't to be hidden. This is a design thing and the Designer is calling me to be bold.
I encourage you today on your journey. I don't know where you are but I do know that oftentimes, we stifle our dreams. It doesn't matter the reason. We just do. It is time to realize our passions aren't random. Dust those dreams off and getting moving. We need you. Man, do we need you.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
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