A repost from my old blog on 9 Jan 2015
There is a vulnerability that is inescapable in writing or creating art. Even kept in a private journal, there is the understanding that someday, even after you are long gone, someone will read what you wrote, see the art that you made, and form an opinion about you. The very act of creating opens you up to examination in a way that nothing else could. And yet, we as humans, in an echo of our Creator, cannot stop creating. We all must do it in some way, whether it be writing, art, dance, cooking, gardening or making families. We create because we must. And we open ourselves up to all sorts of critique. Some friendly and filled with praise, other deriding and hurtful and still other that is violent and terrifying. Still we keep creating. We won't and probably can't, and certainly shouldn't, stop.
When I began this blog a couple of years ago, it was an educational experience. I needed to manage a blog for my job, and didn't have any idea what I was doing. So I started one of my own to learn. And then, of course, I had to decide what to write. I've always kept notes and journals, filled with ideas and observations of my daily life. I inherited that tendency from my maternal grandfather. He kept a notebook in his pocket (I have several of his) in which he wrote down poems and weather observations, work notes and grocery lists. His fine calligraphic handwriting recorded the temperature, the cloud types and his daughter's childhood moments. He left these behind, but I think, seeing him do this for most of my childhood, made an impression on me that is permanent. And I'm sure he never gave thought to anyone besides himself reading those notes. He had no time for vulnerability.
I started sifting through my journals and notebooks to find subjects that I wasn't too afraid to share with strangers. I had notes from daily experiences, notes from my bird-watching journal, idea files and teaching notes from my Sunday Bible study. I chose something that I hoped wasn't too off-the-wall and typed it in. Had butterflies in my gut. Hit the Publish button. There you go! Out for the world's response. Maybe nobody would see and I'd be safe!
Well, someone did see it. And someone else added it to facebook, then lots of people saw it. And... nobody was cruel. So I tried again. Not wanting to be monotonous, I chose to write the next entry about my family, rather that my dog. And add a photo since I'd learned how to do that. Publish again. Favorable comments again. Wow! I might get comfortable with this! (Bad idea, comfort.)
One of the things that I had decided early on is this blogging process was that I would try to always include something about my faith in each post. And in doing that, hopefully impact somebody's life in a positive way. And wouldn't you know, someone took offense. And called me on it. Someone told me I was "preaching". And that it wasn't appreciated. Being a person of very little self-confidence, this one comment caused me to back off and scared me away from posting anything else for a while. It HURT.
Then I found this quote: "You must learn to hush the demons that whisper, 'No one wants to read this. This has already been said. Your voice doesn't matter.' In the rare moments when the voices finally hush, you might hear the angels sing." Margaret Feinberg
And I realized that it was true. And thought about my critic. Maybe - that person needed to hear what I said, but didn't want to. Maybe - they were just cranky. Maybe I should try again. Also, I felt compelled to try again. In my world, a strong compulsion to do a good thing comes from God. And you don't ignore it. And, I found another blogger who was willing to communicate with me and has been very encouraging. So, here goes. May I be brave. May I be interesting.
My story is simple, small and unimportant. And yet is is nerve-wracking to do sometimes. I can't imagine how it must feel to be called to comment on the world's story and put yourself out there for criticism that will undoubtedly be harsh. People don't want to hear the truth. Even when you tell it humorously. May they be truthful. May they be brave.
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