One fall evening in 2012 while walking to my car after an exhausting meeting, George shared something profound. “We all have an allotment of words. I spend my words when they will have a meaningful impact.”
Back story: The church I was attending at the time was investigating the plethora of potential reasons behind why we never seemed to cross over the threshold of two-hundred members. Members expressed a collective desire to grow and in an effort to identify the underlying reasons for our inability to attract and keep new members, we formed…you guessed it…a committee. I was on that committee. At thirty years old, I was the youngest member of this group and
arguably one of the more the most vocal participant. I had an abundance of words and made no reasonable effort to filter which ones made it into the conversation and which ones did not. They all spilled out of my lips. Frustrated that only a few of us made what I deemed to be a meaningful contribution to the conversation, I invited told challenged them to speak up. As we walked to our cars that evening, George strolled over and gently shared his wisdom. Now you’re up to speed.
I will never forget those thoughtful, kind, and wise words. Words that he thought long and hard about. Words that he edited silently in his mind and heart before speaking. Words that he delivered in love and truth. At least that’s the story I have come up with in my mind. I wanted my words to have the same degree of impact. In order to do that, I knew I had some serious work to do.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve become keenly aware that I am a
relatively-decent above-average fairly-good really good writer and communicator. Journaling has been part of my normal routine for decades. I have always thoroughly enjoyed telling a really great story whether over a cup of coffee with my girlfriends or on a stage in front of hundreds of people. I love to share my experiences and my heart with others. It wasn’t until going back to school in 2018 that I began to recognize I had a gift.
Part of the normal academic experience is an emphasis on writing…so much writing. Like so much. As I worked through each class, I channeled George’s wisdom: organizing my thoughts, editing, proofreading, and finally delivering thoughtful, thorough, and heartfelt words. Over time, this process became more natural and even enjoyable, albeit exhausting. My professors left very encouraging feedback. One piece I submitted was even recommended for publication. I didn’t really know what to think of that except that maybe it was pretty good work. The more frequently that occurred, the more I began to wonder if writing, something I thoroughly enjoyed, could be a real path for me. Not just something I did at random, but something I could do intentionally and with purpose.
Eighteen months later, here I am. Writing an initial post. On a blog. Online. For anyone to see. This is likely the most vulnerable personal endeavor I’ve ever undertaken and it made me wonder: what could I possibly have to say in a world where everything has already been said? Where do I even start?
Once I decided I was going to make good on my yearly threat to start a blog, I was filled with doubt, uncertainty, and fear. So I did what any normal freaked out person would do: I text my friends. #help Enter the squad. My debut squad. The women who I walk with, talk with, cry with, dream with, and minister alongside. Jardel, Ann, and Kelsey. They are the real MVPs.
What do I call it? What theme do I use? Who am I writing to and why would they read it? I had so many thoughts swirling and I didn’t know where to start, so I just typed the first thing that came into my mind. Prepare yourselves, it was terrible.
Draft #1: Snark Sanctified – These are the mediocre musings of a redeemed snarkaholic learning how to live a life worthy of the presence of God every day. Thank God I didn’t share that with any of them.
Draft #2: Only a Whisper – The mostly mediocre, sometimes elevated, but always thoughtful musings of a redeemed snarkaholic learning to live a life worthy of the unending presence of God. Nope – unanimously vetoed. Also, the word mediocre was a major point of contention.
Draft #3: Only a Whisper – The above-average, occasionally elevated, but always thoughtful musings of a redeemed snarkaholic learning to live a life worthy of the unending presence of God. Nope – vetoed again, though not unanimously. I was getting somewhere. The theological implications of the phrases were questionable and the self-deprecation was unnecessary and also not how they view me.
Draft #4: Still Small Voice – The musings of a redeemed snarkaholic seeking to hear the still, small voice of an ever-present God. Now we were onto something. It was unanimously approved.
Still Small Voice – The musings of a redeemed snarkaholic seeking to hear the still, small voice of an ever-present God.
Still – thoughtful musings in a hectic world
Small – from a recovering snarkaholic
Voice – longing to hear from God and share his word
I just know that George would approve.
This is what I long to share with you, dear reader: hope. Hope that in this loud and hectic word, we can hear the still small voice of God in such a way that we are transformed. Whenever you visit here, you can trust that the words you read were thoughtfully conceived, weighed, edited, and presented in love, grace, and kindness. This is my still small voice.
Welcome to my blog.