01 March 2008
I'm tired. It was an especially busy week at work; I facilitated my first-ever training class on Monday, putting in a twelve hour day. It went well, but it took a lot out of me and set the tone for my week; I just haven't had the energy to be much in this blogging space.
I was overwhelmed by the responses to my last post. What was reflected back to me in your comments and e-mails blessed me beyond my ability to express. I was awestruck, amazed at the variety of connection points you shared with me, honored that some of you have shared with me that you are passing this on to others.
As I read your own reflections, I remembered her more: the adolescent me, the thirteen-year-old girl who wished she were thinner, prettier. Someone else, even. I can't forget her: I remember her awkwardness and insecurities, her self-loathing. I also remember her with the eating disorder, slowly stripping herself with physical neglect and a merciless interior dialogue; I remember her with the neck-brace, who went numb from the inside out. All these different incarnations of me are alive and breathing inside me, stacked one inside the other like nesting dolls, each with her own story to tell.
As I contemplate my first-ever book proposal and outlines for some magazine pieces for the writer's conference I'm attending in two weeks, I’ve thought of these stories that are uniquely mine, the stories that are layered one upon the other; I’ve thought of the journey these girls have taken from there to here, and wonder what roles they might play in the path ahead.
I may be stepping away from this space for a bit as I do this, focusing my attention on being present and available for those words to come. I'm sitting before God with open hands as I do this, making the whole of my heart and my experience available to Him, wondering what story He wants to tell, wondering how He will translate my experiences into something real meant to reach the heart of another. As I think again over the words you gave back to me, I am struck with the reality that I'm in sacred territory, being asked by God to speak into people's lives, to be a conduit for for His grace and truth to be imparted to the hearts of real people. I am responsible for stepping out of the way, allowing Him to tell the story He wants to tell through the lens of my experience.
This is His yes over me.
I feel a certain weight of holiness in what lay before me; I unlace my shoes and strip off my socks, knowing I tread on holy ground.