This week’s word: Write
I told myself in January that I would get back into the habit of wrestling my thoughts out of my head and onto the page. Now it’s solidly a week into February and I have yet to complete one post. For a moment, I want to beat up on myself and see this as a failure. But just as those thoughts are winding up for a good long rant…they’re stopped by another onee.
I’ve played violin since I was in elementary school, and while I’m no Vanessa Mae or Joshua Bell, I’m no slouch either. But every time I tried to audition for something crazy awesome, I could never quite get everything in gear. In fact, while I was playing with one orchestra in college, one of the first violins had no idea why I was playing with the seconds. “You’re so much better than that.” My reply? ::shrug:: I just don’t audition well.
After a while I joked to someone (probably my best friend) that it was almost like God wanted to keep me for himself. Like my playing would be this gift of the moment, or a supporting role in a crowd, rather than a starring one in front.
And whether or not that’s theologically sound, it brought be a lot of peace and allowed me to let go of all that audition angst. (To clarify: I still don’t audition well, but now I don’t beat myself up about it. I just play for the joy.)
I remember being at one of the David Crowder Band’s final concerts. While reminiscing over their last 10 years of touring, Crowder shared that when their first song really took off, they realized they had been given custody of something much bigger than themselves. The lyrics were given to them, but they were a gift meant to be shared with others.
That’s how I see the work of my favorite writers (bloggers or otherwise), and I’d like to think some of my words are like that too.
Sometimes a thought comes to me and captivates my mind and my fingers, almost holding me hostage until I write them down. And whether they’re meant to be read immediately or sometime in the future, I just know that they’re meant to be shared. They’re a gift.
Those times it just feels like I’m not auditioning well.
I know a part of it is that I’m out of practice. (After all, no matter what your talent is, you have to work on it. Even “naturals” have to have disciple and hone their craft.) But I think sometimes a part of is…those thoughts are for me. Perhaps one day they’ll simmer down and congeal into something I’m able to share. Or maybe through the wrestling of writing I’m meant to learn something I wouldn’t have seen if it had come easily.
Or maybe, for this moment, He’s just keeping me to himself.