Shaking off the old

Hey, I know. I’ve been missing in action. I could say I have been busy – which I am. I could say I have been sick – which I am. I could say I have been tired – again, which I am. These might all be factors, but they’re still not quite the truth.  

I completed my mission and while I am not finished – I won’t be finished until Jesus’ Second Coming – I’m not angry. It’s so very easy to vent. Page upon page of madness flows so very freely. And I’m not angry anymore. Frustrated and disappointed periodically, but not demonically raging. 

And I don’t want this to be about me and my “rightness”. I want to be authentic in such a way that others can join me. We can be vulnerable and wounded and supportive and nurturing. And encouraging. I am hopelessly flawed. We all are, but in different ways. I don’t want to have to hide it behind a façade. 

I read the blogs of others… and some are so “perfect” that I don’t believe them. I find them to feel fake. And others are so real that I always come away so very uplifted. And then there are the angry and lost ones. It scares me how very many people are angry and lost. I am not unique. But it makes me want to do better. To be encouraging and not enabling. 

You know, there is another reason why I haven’t been writing. I haven’t had a book. Not entirely true. I’ve had one, but I’ve been trying to make myself fit into a mold that really isn’t meant for me. I hate to quit. But I did. Pat on the back. A Co-worker mentioned Captivating by the Eldridges. The library had it, I grabbed it. And I haven’t been insanely anal about reading it. I read a chapter when I have a spare moment. But I find that I would like to continue. I keep gravitating to it. 

And what have I discovered? I’m not alone. I’m not the only one who always gets anxious when I go to meet someone. Even someone whom I consider a friend. I get nervous. I will drive around the block several times to avoid arriving early. I am so timid. I fear rejection or not being good enough. I feel so much better when I just say, I don’t know what I should do, so please direct me. As I get comfortable, I no longer need the direction. But I’m so afraid of doing something wrong. 

I feel no such compulsion when I’m writing. For some reason, I have no qualms about speaking my mind when I’m writing. I can open up mouth and insert foot with relish. But put me in front of people as “Alissa” and you can hear a pin drop. Laughing. 

I’d like to share a story with you. Tomorrow … Until then, 

God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7 (ESV)