Every week I write with a gang of courageous storytellers who gather time and again to share lives, and burdens, and blessings, and the everyday ordinary that pulses just beneath each word prompt. And every week it’s different. But we all share one thing in common. We are all there to write, from the novice hobby blogger to the aspiring author to the published.
We know words mean something.
We know that we want ours to matter. And any writer who is honest will admit this can leave you paralyzed cold because the unsubscribe notice in your email with no reason checked will leave you with a thousand guesses to where you words faltered. Where did they fail? If you let it, it will plague you with insecurity and you will be afraid to push publish again, because you know you could never please everyone. And deep in your heart you want to. Please people. And when you feel your words don’t matter, it hurts. A writer’s words are a part of them as surely as a limb, and just as easily afflicted.
But you, you are brave. You have stepped up again this week and risked being misunderstood or ignored, for the chance to be heard and seen and grafted in.
We are all here to step into a small part of our dream of sharing words and tentatively advancing into community where words reveal not just a little more about us each week but all of us. That we can be seen and accepted, just as we are. No matter the eloquence of phrase or the simplicity of concepts, we are all crafting a divine message. He in us, the hope of Glory.
It really is the most extraordinary community. We are more than a mutual admiration society where we flounce from blog to blog sprinkling nice comments and fairy dust. We occupy twitter with our hashtag every Thursday and Friday but what happens is more than the sum of retweets or comment count or likes. It is the building up of a body.
We bend knees in prayer, lift sick bodies and troubles, confess the messy broken and find laughter in talk of Tastycakes, and how to order a good Cheesteak in Philly, and of course our hatred and unbridled fear of Spanx which may or may not be related to the aforementioned snack talk.
We may come tentative but we leave unafraid. Because we find the more we give of ourselves in this community, the more we see that His promises are true. Perfect love, that selfless love that only God provides, casts out all fear. We may enter afraid of our talent, our dreams too tentative and fragile to say in more than a whisper but we leave with resolve. We leave with our hearts bolstered because this is how the daughters of God get things done. We speak life. We gather broken. We tell truth.
This is my love letter to you beautiful ladies who gather each week and make me love being a writer. I love you all to pieces! You know who you are.
A flash mob of writers, a community of sisters, a glorious chorus of voices knit together in fellowship. Join us? This weeks word: Afraid
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..