The mood in the car on the way back from Thanksgiving wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as it was on the way there. We were stuffed. We were spent. And we were a little stressed.

Add three days of holiday eating, one sleepless night and doctor calls due to a toddler’s overstuffed belly and ruptured eardrum, one Black Friday, 12 people in one house for three days, then news that’s not so encouraging, and you’re sure to find a carload of peeps ready for deep breaths and quiet space to regroup.

But the Christmas music played on.

We were blindly oblivious to the joy we could’ve received from the Christmas tunes until Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Then everything changed. The whole car woke up. And everyone started singing along.

What was it about this Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that had the power to light up a whole carload of travelers weary from the journey?

It was magical, powerful, noteworthy, at least for me, the one who’s hyperaware of just about everything. The joy lasted for one, maybe two minutes, the length of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’s song, and that’s about it. Then everything returned to status quo.

That is, until the next day when we passed two freshly-built snowmen on the way out of the neighborhood. A similar glimmer of hope rushed through me. An innocence I desperately needed. A fresh perspective in the midst of the monotonous and mundane.

We passed those snowmen on the way out and in, out and in again. And as we passed, I felt gratitude for their creator, thankful for the frosty gift of simplicity.

So what is it about Rudolph and Frosty that light us up? Why do we listen to their songs? Why do we watch their shows year after year? Why do we buy stuffed Misfit Toys and Rudolphs with shiny noses? And why do we build Frosties with black hats and carrot noses?

I believe we deeply crave Rudolph and Frosty’s innocence. We’re desperate for the glimmer of hope they bring to the table. We long for things to be simple again, for days when all we need to worry about is singing and frolicking in the snow. We want to be jolly and happy, and wouldn’t it be awesome if all our cares washed away in the singing of one simple song? What can we do to bring back the days of old?

On the other hand, Rudolph and Frosty remind us we’re human. We relate to their simple, but profound stories. Rudolph and Frosty are courageous and bold, even in the face of adversity. They know they were created for a reason, and we see them most fully alive when they’re living in the center of their purpose. Hiding the best parts of us, letting our gifts and talents melt away into oblivion isn’t wise. It’s foolish. It’s a shame. We know we were made for more. We know there’s life and light waiting to shine in and through us.

So we watch. And we listen. We sing. And we build.

For Rudolph and Frosty represent you and me in the most simple, but profound of ways.

You and me – with gifts seen and unseen.

You and me – with gifts expressed and unexpressed.

You and me – with beauty and pain and everything in-between.

You and me – waiting for magical moments, ready to break free.

You and me – desperate for innocence and purity, longing for simpler days, slower days, days when we can give and share our gifts in community, days when we can just BE without fear of what MIGHT BE.

So yes, we watch. We listen. We sing. And we build.

Because Rudolph and Frosty? Their stories are our stories.

The plan was perfect.

We scheduled our annual family photo shoot with the photographer we’ve used since 2009. Hubs ordered a sweater, I got a necklace and boots, and we put some outfits together for the kids. Everything was ready to go.

That is, until a toss-and-turn night found me sleeping on a chair in our bedroom. The next morning, our toddler came into the room, wondering why I was sleeping in the chair. She flung her body back hard with the intention of lying next to me, but instead banged my eye up big. It hurt. It swelled. I cried. And I had a black eye for two weeks.

Our perfectly planned family photo shoot was down the drain. We canceled, because truth is, I still had a black eye the day we were scheduled to shoot.

The photographer wasn’t available for two weeks, and we didn’t want to take any chances with winter weather on its way. So we decided to do our own make-shift family photo shoot. I’d just purchased my dream camera two weeks prior. Why not use it?

The plan was perfect.

We’d get all dressed up, just like we would’ve for our family photo shoot. And we’d use my brand new camera to take pictures of each other. Sure, we’d miss the family photograph of all five of us this year, but we’d get all the other pictures we wanted!

Off we went. The day was perfect. The sun was shining. The temperature was just right. The leaves were golden yellow. We couldn’t have asked for more.

That is, until things started going wrong.

The baby got crabby.

And I couldn’t get the lighting right (not to mention the tree coming out of her head).

Kids didn’t sit when they were supposed to sit.

Then it was windy.

Our pre-teen boy cooperated at first, but then got irritated with this process.

We moved to a new spot and he started cooperating again.

But apparently it takes more than two weeks to master the perfect balance of ISO, shutter speed, and aperture in the live context of a photo shoot, so we experienced more lighting issues before we found our happy spot again.

When I finally got the lighting JUST RIGHT, baby started getting extra crabby.

There was this.

Then this.

Yeah. We wrapped this shoot with more bad lighting and more baby crying.

This is how mama looks when baby’s standing on the ground screaming and clinging to mama’s legs, and daddy’s determined to finish this photo shoot properly. (This one seriously cracks me up. NOT cute.)

Daddy dashed for the car with said baby crying. I stayed to try to get a few more good shots of our two oldest. But they were clearly fatiguing. It was time to go.

All five of us got back in the vehicle. A few words were said. Then I put my dream camera away, looked out the window, and cried.

Our PERFECTLY PLANNED family photo shoot was NOT PERFECT.

When we got home, I was still quite upset.

I could’ve given up. I could’ve given in to the lie that we’d just experienced the most catastrophic disasters of family photo sessions in the entire world.

But I knew better. I knew there was still hope for this thing. I knew we’d taken some good shots. And I knew there were still a few good ones to be taken in our backyard.

So I put my brave on and got that camera back out.

Within 20 minutes, I had a handful of great pictures of our son, and 15-20 awesome shots of our oldest daughter.

After everyone went to bed that night, I spent two hours weeding through the day’s photographs, 350 a rough estimate. I made a list of every photo worthy of being transferred to a disc, checked it twice, and burned it baby.

“Fall Family Photo Shoot 2014”

We were doing this. We were choosing to remember the good that happened that day.

Three weeks later, I received an email from Shutterfly with some crazy deal, like 30% off holiday cards + another 40% off that! The offer expired the next day, so we knew we had to take advantage of it.

That night, we pulled out the CD from the NOT-SO-PERFECT family photo shoot. We selected seven pictures we LOVED and wanted to share on a Christmas photo card for family and friends.

And just a few days ago, we received the big orange Shutterfly box in the mail with 130 photo cards in it!

What were the words that came out of my mouth when I saw the cards for the first time?

“I love these! They turned out awesome!”

Life isn’t perfect. And typically? Family photo shoots are far from perfect.

But if we’re persistent, positive, and willing to look twice through those all those “horrible pictures,” we might just find a beautifully imperfect family, a beautifully imperfect life, and perfectly beautiful photographs waiting to be shared with loved ones.

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Shutterfly is running an awesome sale on Christmas photo cards through Sunday, November 16th! Just enter promotion code JOY2ALL at checkout, and receive 50% off 6×8 flat and 3/4 folded cards OR 40% off 5×7, 5×5, 4×8, 4×5 flat, 5×7 trifold, or 5×7 folded cards. And don’t forget free shipping on orders $39 or more; just enter code SHIP39 at checkout! This is one of the best sales Shutterfly runs on Christmas cards, and is the one our family typically takes advantage of every fall.

One more thing before I go…I’m excited to announce that I’ve recently become an affiliate for Shutterfly! That means that if you make a purchase from Shutterfly through the links in this blog post or any Shutterfly link on my blog from here on out, I’ll receive a small commission which will help cover some of the ongoing costs associated with the blog.

Wishing you patience and a sense of humor as you search those family pictures for one that represents your beautiful family.

 

 

 

P.S. This, of course, ISN’T our seven-picture Christmas card. But hey, I thought I’d give you a little sneak peek of one of the good photos and share one of Shutterfly’s cute designs!

Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the post above are “affiliate links.” This means that if you click on the link and purchase something from Shutterfly, I will receive an affiliate commission. Having said that, I promise readers my highest of integrity in that I will only promote products I use, love, and believe will add value to your lives. I’m disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

I’m not sure when it was. Maybe a year ago, maybe two.

She said those words. And I knew they were true.

“You’ve been sprinting through life. You’ve burned yourself out.”

Yep.

It’s true.

I can’t deny.

Life’s a marathon. And I’ve been sprinting.

First it was tennis, tennis and more tennis. I played morning, noon and night, it seemed. I’m pretty sure I burned out long before I was aware. I knew in my heart that winning wasn’t my goal, so I snapped at the coach at an inopportune time, then kept on playing as big as I could. I played once or twice in college. That’s it. My heart was never in it from there on out. I haven’t picked up a tennis racquet for 16, 18 years.

Then it was flute. Now that I’m a mom of a not-always-excited-to-practice band student, I’m convinced I practiced like a good girl should. I never second guessed the proper amount of time I should put in to perfecting my art. I just did it. It worked for me. I must have loved it, or I wouldn’t have done it. I did band. I did lessons. I did private lessons. I did recitals. I did solos and ensembles. I won awards. I was honored for my achievement and my art. I even did wind ensemble through most of college, even when I didn’t have to, even when I was one of the only non-music majors. And when my best friend asked me to play flute at her son’s baptism, I did. I hadn’t played for three years, and it felt good. I was better than I remembered. Yet, after that day, I didn’t pick up a flute for another 12, 13 years.

Things changed a little when I became a full-fledged adult, a full-fledged wife and mom of one, two, and then three. The race venue changed. But I hadn’t.

I went to graduate school. Let’s just say I burned out before I even finished. My mom can attest to that fact. But I pressed on anyway and got that master’s degree.

We did young married couples’ bible study. With good friends, GREAT friends, for five years straight. Nearly every single week we met, traveled across the metro to another young married couple’s house. We bundled our son, and when our daughter came along, we bundled her too. I loved it and we did it for five years, but after a while, this beautiful bible study thing started to feel a little like a burden, a commitment that wasn’t working as well as it once did. The constant bundling up and heading out with two little ones on cold work and school nights was feeling like too much for this family to bear once a week forever. Yet I knew “good Christians” attended weekly bible study, wouldn’t complain or feel burdened, and would never consider a break. Then we moved. The increased travel to and from was too much more than it already was. We knew it was time to say good-bye to that not-so-young-anymore married couples’ bible study. So we called it a day.

I told her I wanted to run for city council. Perhaps I thought I was superwoman. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I wasn’t superwoman at all. Yet, I offered myself for an open seat on the planning commission anyway. The fit for my gifting and personality? It worked. Fine. I did my job and I did my best. I read every note. I studied and understood as best as I could. I sat in that seat for three years, one whole term. But I knew, this city government stuff wasn’t for me. Plus, I had elsewhere to focus. I’d started sprinting in a new direction.

Wife. Mom of two, then three. Private practice owner. Speech-language therapist. And planning commission.

It wasn’t enough.

I added non-profit board member to this sprint through life.

But at this point, I must’ve known in my heart of hearts. I needed to be CALLED to something rather than just DO it for the sake of doing it. Because all my sprinting was beginning to take a toll, and I hadn’t even begun to identify the problem yet.

So I thought and prayed over the opportunity to join the non-profit board for NINE months before I finally agreed to do it. A series of events led me to believe, very clearly, that I was being called to join the board. So I did. For three years I served diligently as board member. I gave 110%. And my God-given gifts were utilized. To this day, I believe God had called. I obeyed. And it was a beautiful thing. But when my three-year term neared the end, I knew it was time to go. I was growing weary. I knew it was time for fresh faces to step in. And since I started my term on the board, I’d also begun this blog. It was time to focus my efforts here, where I was feeling a strong call to be.

This isn’t the end of my sprinting story. There are parts I’ve left out. Intentionally. Because I’m not ready to tell the whole story yet. And I’m sure you get the point, anyway.

What I’ve written is vulnerable enough for today.

I’ll leave the rest of this story for another day.

This is the only thing I really wanted to say.

I’m no longer willing to sprint through this marathon called life.

It’s time I admit this, now.

It’s time I confess this, now.

Because sometimes life feels short, but more often? It feels like a marathon.

I’ve done things by “the book.” I’ve sprinted with all I have towards the finish line. But if God has me running a full life? I’m not quite half through “the race.”

I’d better start pacing myself.

I’d better start focusing on the things God’s called me to do instead of the things that would be good to do.

I’d better start living instead of sprinting.

So today, I slow myself. Intentionally.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, and gracefully in this writing space. I commit to keeping my heart engaged. I commit to feeling connected. Always. I commit to listening to God’s call for every step. And I commit to staying and doing the hard work even when the journey feels bumpy, unsteady, fully unknown. I commit to giving myself grace and freedom to be and write like me, even when the voices tell me I should change, quit, be realistic, more practical, whatever. Burnout isn’t an option in this place. It just isn’t.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, and gracefully in my living spaces. Yes will no longer be my default. No will be an option. And maybe will be just that. Maybe. We’ll see. I need to stop for a break, clean up the rubble, gather unnecessary things I’ve lugged on the sprint, and toss them out once and for all. For more is not better. And faster’s not always effective. So let me stop, please. Then I’ll pick up the pace, this time slower, with more intention.

I commit to living slowly, thoughtfully, gracefully for the loving faces. Because I’ve loved, but not enough. I’ve been vulnerable with a few, but guarded with most. I’ve lost all trust when all I really want to do is gain, and more. I’ve wanted to connect, but I haven’t known how. I haven’t had time to sit, haven’t had time to be, haven’t had time to linger, with you. A part of my heart has grown cold along the sprint. Cold, believing everyone’s sprinting, that nobody has time, that everybody has their own agenda and nobody’s interested in real relationship anymore. What if most of us are sprinting? What if we’re all burning out? What if we just need to slow down and linger longer, and that’s all we really need for our hearts to burn brighter and lighter again? So I commit. Whether I’m bad at it or not, to slowing and lingering. For the sake of connection. With you.

Life’s a marathon.

I’m slowing.

I might even have to stop before I pick the pace back up to a jog.

But you better believe this.

I will sprint no more.

Today’s day 29, which means we’re in the home stretch of 31 Dreams From the Street.

(Can I just say a little Hallelujah?!)

I’d like to to step back and share some random thoughts and observations I made as we proceeded through the series.

No need for delay. Let’s get right to it!

Humility

I lived in humility this month. Ego was OUT. THE. DOOR. If you want to practice humility, commit to interviewing random strangers for a whole month. Or commit to doing something, anything totally out of your box. Then go make it happen. It’s an exercise in courage and humility, wrapped into one. Perhaps being brave makes us humble, too.

Trust

One thing I sensed deeply this month is that human beings have trust issues. I addressed this in yesterday’s post, but I’m pretty sure that half of the people I approached for an interview didn’t trust me. I find myself to be a fairly benign, non-threatening person. And I wasn’t asking that much of the people I interviewed. Yet, I was still rejected by 20. I recognize that being approached by a random stranger is totally out of the ordinary. I understand why elements of trust and distrust were inherent to this series. I just wish we lived in a world that was more trusting. Our walls are up. Our guards are up. We don’t always trust human beings. It’s hard to be authentic and develop meaningful relationships with others when we don’t trust. Trust is crucial to connection.

Hope

Couldn’t we all benefit from a little more hope? When we reveal bits, pieces and chunks of our hearts, we become vulnerable, we become wiser, we stir a little or a lot of the hope that’s inside us. When we hope for something better, when we dream bigger, we present ourselves differently to the world.  We’re a living example of what hope looks like, lived out in real time. We can hope for a better tomorrow. We can hope for the things God’s placed on our heart. Hope is worth the risk.

Image

There were a couple days this month that I literally wanted to strip off ALL OF MYSELF. I wanted to strip off ALL OF ME. I wanted to strip off every ounce of my image. Because I sensed something between me and those 20 rejections. Something sat between me and the hundreds of people I passed and didn’t have the courage to approach. One suspect might be image. My instinct told me that if I’d have been able to strip myself of my image, I would’ve had fewer rejections and greater courage to approach more people. But here’s the truth. Stripping our images is nearly impossible. We all come with a “face,” an outward image that people perceive and make judgements about. I wondered if people would have responded differently if I was a man, if I dressed differently, if I presented myself differently, if I was younger, or older?

Dreams

Chasing other peoples’ dreams is exhausting. Chasing other peoples’ dreams for you is exhausting, too. So chase your own dreams. And encourage the dreamers running alongside you. For we all need a little encouragement.

Dark & Light

The street can be dark, lonely, cold, and hurried. Slow down, be a light, and bring joy to a world that needs it bad. Sometimes, we need to get off the fast pace of the street, both literally and figuratively, and step into spaces where we can develop relationship and be known. Life is better when shared. Life is better when we’re connected. Life is better wherever we’re moving towards light.

Work Your Spaces

We’re not meant to be everywhere and be everything to everyone. Be a light in the spheres God’s assigned you to. Stepping outside of the box is good, but if you step too far away from your gifting, you might just find yourself in the wilderness.

Security and Insecurity

The world can make you feel secure as quickly as it can make you feel insecure. Live a life that you love. Hold firm to your beliefs. Know you’re masterfully designed by your creator. Know that you matter. Believe that your life counts. Regardless of what anyone says or how anyone makes you feel. The value of your life has nothing to do with what others think of you. The value of your life is inherent in you. Because you are you. You are called and made, beautiful.

Smile

Smile to someone on the street. Why not? One day when I was out interviewing for this month’s series, I’m pretty sure only one person smiled at me all day. A weight lifted when that person smiled at me. Like someone actually saw me, noticed me, decided it was worth a second to smile at another human being. You never know what kind of day someone’s had. Smile. Please. You’ve got nothing to lose. And you might just feel a little happier yourself, because you made someone’s day a bit brighter.

Broad & Shallow vs. Narrow & Deep

I’m not in this writing gig to push out content. I’m not in this writing gig to go broad, big and shallow. I’m in this writing gig to go narrow and deep. I’m in this writing gig to share my heart. I’m in this writing gig to connect, to love, to hear you out. I’m in this writing gig to share your story, to share my story, to share God’s story weaved through all of us.

Identity

Before we discover who we are, we have to find out who we’re NOT. This month, I learned a lot about who I am. But I learned even more about who I’m NOT. That lesson was invaluable. Now, I’m ready to move on. Now, I’m more prepared than I was, to embrace who I am with wild abandon. This learning who we are and who we aren’t is a tough lesson, but one I wish for everyone. Because we’re not created to be everyone. We’re created to be ourselves.

Time

I mentioned this in Darlene’s post, but we need to take more time with people. We’re missing the boat when we dismiss people, when we merely pass them by, when we barely acknowledge, when we think others better or less than ourselves. What if we took time? To sit. To be. To live in community with others? What if?

Money

I’ve decided once and for all. In the end, money won’t matter at all. In fact, the only power it holds over any of us is that it’s a currency. It’s a way of living. It’s a way of surviving. But living for money is no way to live. So we see money for what it is. A currency to sustain us. But it doesn’t have a hold on us. It doesn’t have us pinned down. It is what it is. Money. Currency.

So don’t be deceived, dear one, be assured. Your best life doesn’t hinge on money. Your best life hinges on faith, relationship, and finding purpose so you can leave a legacy when all’s said and done. So discover and live in your sweet spot. Because when life gets tough, when life’s down and out, all the money in the world won’t help a bit. Faith will sustain us. Relationships will sustain us. And if we discover, embrace, and walk boldly in our purpose, we’ll leave a legacy of hope.

There’s more to life than mere existence.

There’s more to life than money.

Let’s live like “we’re rich.”

For “The simple things in life are the only things that really matter.” Judah & The Lion

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.

I came home and cried that night. Cried to my husband for a world that’s cold, a world that’s harsh, a world that isn’t welcoming all the time. Cried because I didn’t want to do this anymore, this 31 Days. Cried because I wanted to quit.

Earlier that day, I’d spent a few hours in the hustle and bustle of the street. It was my third journey out and about gathering interviews for my series, 31 Dreams from the Street. The interviews were exhilarating and adventuresome at first, but draining and exhausting by week three.

I spent three and a half hours wandering the street and a whole assortment of locations that day. My goal was to gather seven interviews, enough to last the whole week to come. But I only gathered five that day. I tried and tried for six and seven, but continued to come up dry.

Now that I look back, there was good reason I never gathered interviews six and seven that day.

You see, two hours into that day’s adventures in interviewing, I came up against a wall. An invisible wall constructed by a fellow human being who happened to be in my vicinity, who happened to find herself in my path when I was out and about interviewing.

I won’t share details of this encounter, because honestly? The memory is fairly traumatic, like the kind of memory that will stick around for a lifetime whether I like it or not. But I am choosing to share the experience vaguely, because I think there’s something to learn from it.

So this encounter. I didn’t expect it. It came out of nowhere. Had I known it was going to happen, I would have evacuated the vicinity immediately, long before it even happened. But I believe all things happen for a reason, that God works all things together for those who love Him. And He will work this, even this, together for my good.

She was there, in my presence, while I was interviewing another.

She asked what a blog was. And then she proceeded to laugh when I told her what I write about. She laughed in a casual and dismissive way, as if my blog and writing were the stupidest things she’d ever heard of.

I continued with my interview.

At that point, I’d only had my new camera for a couple weeks, so I was still trying to learn all the settings on it. The lighting in the space I was in was notably different than the space I’d just been in. So when I went to take a photograph of the person I was interviewing, I had to take THREE or FOUR shots in order to get ONE that worked. The lighting was really tough to manage with the all manual settings I was attempting to use on my camera. (Let it be known, this had never happened before. I was totally caught off guard and felt like an idiot the way it was. Because I would’ve gotten that shot on the first try had I been a professional and/or fully acclimated to my new camera.) Anyway, before the last shot, she made a snarky, sarcastic comment that really got under my skin. I will never forget her words. They couldn’t have been more rude and belittling. It wasn’t until later that I realized I should’ve responded to her comment differently than I did. But these are the battles you face as a nice, people pleasing person, even when you’re belittled straight to your face.

I continued with my interview.

When I was about to leave the space, I handed a blog business card to the person I was interviewing so they could check out the post later if they chose to do so. This was standard operating procedure for the month. A business card was quick and convenient, with all my information in one place. But when I handed that card to the person I interviewed, the woman laughed. Right there, right in my face. As if me having a blog business card was the lamest, stupidest, most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen.

Having been knocked down not once, but three times during this interview, I was ready to bolt from the scene as quickly as possible.

So I did.

As soon as I handed off that blog business card, I thanked the person I interviewed as kindly as I could, and I bolted. Far off. Straight away. As far as I could go.

Because I’d been made to feel like a fool, like an idiot, like a tiny, tiny girl who didn’t matter one speck.

At that point, I’d gotten five interviews for my series. I had two more to go to meet my goal for the day, but for the next hour and a half, I wandered aimless.

I never did get two more interviews that day. Because I was scared. I felt hollow. Defeated. Low to the ground, like a nothing, a nobody. This series I’d conceived? It suddenly felt like the most lame and ridiculous thing in the world. This writing, it seemed like worthless dream chasing.

I wanted to quit.

This 31 Days had officially eaten my insides alive. It wasn’t worth this. At all.

As far as I was concerned, my encounter with this woman was a 31 Days worst nightmare. Not only that, it impacted my ability to be fully authentic with the person I was interviewing. When someone is subtly and not-so-subtly criticizing you in front of another, you have to wonder about the negative impact it has on everyone.

So I came home. And later that night, I cried. I talked it out as best as I could with my husband. And we agreed, I’d write my thoughts and feelings about 31 Dreams from the Street during the last five days of the series. But I never did tell him about that woman. Because it was simply too embarrassing and belittling. I never will tell anyone the details. They will remain in me, lifted to God, as He’s the only other who saw, really saw, what happened that day.

Over the course of the next four days, I lifted it up. I handed it over. I decided I had to be brave, to keep going, to finish this series just as I’d planned. I needed to get through these interviews, brutal or not.

Four days later, I ventured out. My husband freed me with his words. He said, “Commit to a certain amount of time. Decide that whether you get one interview or ten during that period of time, you’ll be done interviewing after that.”

I got four interviews that night. They all went well.

A couple days later, I got another interview.

And a day after that, I stepped out of the interview box and offered a guest post to my daughter.

On the airplane to the writing conference, Darlene offered to be interviewed when I told her I was wrapping the series and needed another interview.

And on day 26, I decided I just couldn’t do another interview. I gave myself grace. It was okay. I’d already learned the lesson. I’d moved on from the trauma that was.

I don’t know why this happened.

I do know I wanted to quit that day.

I do know my interactions with that woman were traumatizing, forever and unfortunately etched in my memory.

But God calls me to go, anyway. God calls me to continue, anyway. God calls me to write, anyway. Because NOT everyone is going to like me. NOT everyone is going to like what I do. NOT everyone is going to like what I have to say, or how I present myself in this world. If you are that person who doesn’t like me, that person who doesn’t like anything about me? Okay. So be it. The people pleaser in me surrenders. To you. You don’t have to like me.

So I will be brave. I will continue. I will follow this call. I will write, anyway. I will be me, anyway. I will, anyway.

Because I must.

So as I wrap this series, I accept the fact that I don’t write for everyone.

I write for GOD. Because He made me and He called me. Because He knows the most traumatizing things that happen to us, and loves and heals us just the same.

I write for ME.

And I write for YOU, you who have taken time to read one, two or twenty-seven days. For all of you who care, for all of you who understand, for all of you who get it, even a little bit? Thank you.

Cheers. To not quitting because of someone else’s belittling.

Cheers. To the 31 Dayers who have been bold and beautifully brave despite how hard any day’s been.

Cheers. To you.

 

 

 

*This post is a part of a month-long 31 Days series titled Dreams from the Street. If you’d like to read more from my series, click here and you’ll be brought to the series landing page where all 31 posts are listed and linked! You can follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/AmyBPederson where I’ll tweet links to all 31 posts using hashtag #write31days, and I’d LOVE to connect on Facebook at facebook.com/AmyBPederson! I’m so glad you stopped by. Make yourself comfortable and take a peek around the place. You’re welcome back anytime.