Bear Witness

If I am being honest, I have to tell you that I have been struggling lately. I have so many thoughts that I want to put into words, so much I want to write and accomplish. Yet, many days, I do not write at all, and am miserable because of it. I promised myself almost a year ago that this would be the year I would make progress, that I would have something concrete toward writing a book by the time my birthday rolled around again. I have a few pages, nothing substantial, and really just have not done the "work" that is writing. The "work" that requires coming back to the blank page, day after day after day, until there are more words gathered into place, and something of substance begins to take shape.

Sometimes when I consider doing the work of writing, I hear a record player in my brain that is stuck on an old, familiar loop. The record plays the same message over and over again on repeat. The message tells me that if I cannot be the best, I should remain silent. It says that my writing is without purpose. It tells me that my thoughts are best kept to myself, because ultimately I have nothing to bring to the table.

And then, this guy walks through the door:

My youngest boy decided recently that he was going to write the story of his life. He has been writing faithfully, almost every day, about the things that make up his world. He feels tremendous joy in learning that he can express his heart by putting his thoughts into words on a page, and then share those thoughts with others. He does not come to his notebook with an agenda. His mission is to record his life, to find a way to bear witness to all that he sees and does and feels. He writes it all down because he believes that his life, and his story, have value.

My heart breaks wide open when I see it. This is why I write: to bear witness. My writing bears witness to my own heart about all that I have seen and done and felt. My writing also bears witness to another heart that may have seen and done and felt something similar along the way. My writing declares that my life and my story have value.

The joy on his face is a jolt that moves the needle on my broken record. Now I can hear again the better message playing. I may not be the best, but I will not remain silent. My writing has purpose because my life has purpose. I have plenty to bring to the table, if only I will come and share what I have been given.

I intend to try to be more like Asher this month, and just keep filling up pages. I will remind myself that writing to record my thoughts and feelings will bear witness to all that I see and do and feel, whether in the form of day-to-day life and memory on the blog, or in words filling blank pages just for me. I will try not to have an agenda, but keep the record player on the truth, and just bring what I have to the table. That's all that any of us really needs to do, and there is so much joy when we each bring what we have and pour it out, sharing our gifts with one another, and growing together in love.

Thank you so much to all my friends and family who reminded me again this year on my birthday how very blessed and fortunate I am. Your goodness propels me toward a better message and truth in my heart.