I’ve been contemplating for months how to put to words how I’ve been feeling about this writing career stuff. That which bounces around like a super ball in my mind each day and night and doesn’t fully land still and quiet.
I don’t know what I want. And do I really belong here? What do I want as a writer? Am I only a Christian writer? And the answer is yes and no.
I want to be me. And sometimes that me isn’t the nice Christian girl who is wrapped up in a pretty cardigan and shiny lip gloss and whispers sweet blessings to everyone she meets. Who always has the right words and never speaks ill of anyone.
My life can’t be tied up in a pretty little bow.
Because life isn’t like that. Doesn’t that appearance feel forced and perhaps even contrived?
I want to tear those walls down and see the real girl under that pretty sweater; hiding behind those perfectly white, straight teeth. To see who is in there. Is she real? Broken? Hurting?
Is she like me?
And that’s the big question. Are we getting real with each other here? Or are we donning the perfect Christian mask and speaking Christianese? Who are we really? Who am I?
And this writing adventure squeaks off more of the greasy grime, shining a little bit more of who I’m supposed to be. Revealing bit by bit and refining as I trudge through it.
I may be rough around the edges at times but I promise to be real with you. We may not be able to tie everything up with a pretty little bow but sometimes the best gifts come in a tangled heap.
And if I don’t fit in or I’m not who everyone expects me to be, I’ll be okay because I’m at peace with where God leads. Even if the road isn’t where I expected to go.
Do you ever struggle with who you are? Do you think we put on too many pretty masks as Jesus girls?