I once signed up for a Creative Writing class in high school. It was the first time I felt the need to become a writer. Something unique happened in my heart when I wrote on paper.
Both my Comp and Literature professors (at two different colleges) believed I possessed the potential to beautifully weave words.
I didn’t really believe them and life happened, so I tucked away the dream of seeing my name on a book cover.
Before everyone’s grandmother had a blog, I was encouraged to share our family’s adventures online. Baby #2 had just joined the family and we took a private jet to one of Hubs’ job sites in NC. It was the first and last time that ever happened. I thought my family would love to read about it … they didn’t.
No one understood why I would publicly share such private information. What was ‘blogging’ anyway? Each trip felt more bragging than ‘travel blogging’.
I shifted gears and started sharing homeschool lessons, activities, and field trips. Strangers from around the globe started commenting. (That used to be a real thing – receiving numerous comments and engaging with readers). Naturally, the progression of blogging lead to attending social media conferences in order to learn how to get my message to the masses.
The next handful of years I watched my favorite bloggers (and some friends) become book writers and I trusted it would just happen for me too. I was given opportunities to share my ‘online knowledge’ and speak at events. But book opportunities passed right by.
God never gave me a story to share. Oh, He allowed hardships, loss, forgiveness, and redemption ~ but none of it was to be shared for the purpose of having my name on a book cover. See, I never cared if my stories impacted others. What was written on the pages paled in comparison to the idea of my name stamped on a book cover.
I wanted glory, respect, and affirmation from my writing peers that I was good enough to join their secret society of success. I wanted a title not a ministry.
Those years failure, broken relationships, and bitterness met me every time I got online. I watched other people who had put in less work become writers. I watched younger women with less experience become writers. I swallowed lumps of envy as I read and helped numerous book launches with my social media platforms. Each time I cried it wasn’t me.
I was attending a social media conference in South Carolina when God finally helped me understand. I had walked around all weekend brooding at the clique of writers who were there to speak. I needed a good smack upside my head.
“Tell your story” was close to becoming the next frat house drinking game because everyone was pressuring us with that phrase. I may have been overheard saying ‘drink’ during keynote sessions ~ at a christian conference. I was out of control wallowing in obnoxious selfishness.
I could not wait to get on a plane and get home. At one point I left the conference to meet up with a local friend for coffee. On my way back to sulk and share sarcasm in a breakout session, I saw a new book writer. She was not my favorite. I knew she had started blogging after me. Her children were younger than mine yet she continually used them as examples on how to parent.
I had nothing for her but an arsenal of eye rolls. When I headed for the elevator I couldn’t help but notice she was sitting alone looking very gray. The sick kind of might-pass-out-at-any-minute gray. A little piece inside of me was ready to throw backhand springs. If she wanted to be a writer – she deserved this moment and I would victoriously gloat she was not enjoying it.
Rather than jump for joy, my legs started walking toward her. Instantly, God cleared away the envy, the jealousy, and the fog of bitterness that cocooned me the last five years. I was able to clearly see the Lord had something for me that wasn’t a pretty book cover.
I sat down next to her and asked if she was OK. She barely made a sound and nodded slowly. I knew she was lying. So I asked if I could pray over her. (Ironically, her book was about prayer and here I was about to do it for her).
In that moment the fleshy sinful side of my heart wanted to laugh. She had everything she wanted and yet she was terrified of the next event – the book signing. Worse, her little pathetic table of books was towered by the largest Christian writer at that time.
I started praying. In my mind I had nothing positive to offer, but my heart bubbled and overflowed with the words I had always wanted to hear my entire life. I never knew I stored them there, and I couldn’t believe God wanted me to shower this woman with them. And so I did. I prayed and prayed sometimes hearing the words with my own ears after my mouth had spoken them. My heart was in a totally new place and it was bouncing with joy to do this thing. I was obedient to be a prayer warrior for her.
I am not close with this woman today. It didn’t make us BFFs. I don’t think she ever thanked me. Yet because of her feeling insecure in that moment, I realized who I am and what I am supposed to be doing.
Long after that conference – after I gave up chasing popularity online – I was cleaning out some old drawers. I came across numerous prayer journals. I spent the day reading over hundreds of requests I had written down. Prayers for my boys, my husband, our health, friends, family, the church. And then it struck me. The reason why I always liked writing down words wasn’t necessarily to write a book… It was to fill prayer journals.
Being a prayer warrior doesn’t pay the bills. It hasn’t made me famous. Yet the obedience to pray for those in the moment has been more fulfilling than I could ever imagine. It has brought ridiculous joy. I am far happier now than I have ever been before.
I have grown into a woman who holds on to the sarcasm and prays out loud instead. I have become a woman who can sincerely cheer for others without asking God when will it be my turn? I spend more time talking with God daily and it has made a difference in my relationships.
I believe, Your greatest joy might not come from the world’s standards of success. Joy overwhelms when obedience walks in hand with God-given talents to serve the Lord.