Confessions of a Humbled Writer~ 

  
I am blessed and humbled beyond words. A few months ago, I had lunch with a friend. She grabbed my hand and tears flowed onto her plate. “I can’t thank you enough for your book,” she said. “It’s helped me so much – not only with body image, but with so many other areas of life.” She graciously described how now she grasps, through and through, how much God loves her.She said she can now recognize the lies she’s thinking about herself, and knows what to do about them.
I confess I haven’t always been a humbled writer. I thought the journey would be easier. People told me for years to write a book, and I did. Granted, the process took 35 million years! 

  God has called me to write to set the captives free. He told me this would also nclude speaking. I’ve greatly enjoyed the radio and conference opportunities He graciously provides. 

  

Yet to be real, raw and honest, at times I became puffed with pride. This is common for writers along the journey, if they can take off their masks and admit it. 
Truly, I write to infiltrate the world with the truths of God’s passionate love for them on the dark canvass of life. 
I felt the journey would be less of a struggle. I learned through NCWA about platform and social media engagement. 
  
The question is how can I do that well while running a counseling practice, living others well and washing my bath towels?! After all, wearing a bath towel to work isn’t professional. Also, managing lupus and ankylosing spondylitis steals a great deal of precious time. 
Yet through and through, I know research shows the more time people spend online, the more depressed they generally are. Maybe this isn’t a causal relationship, but I’ve seen the fruit of its effects in my counseling office. 
People have said so many kind comments about the book, but I’m not good at asking others to write reviews. 
The truth is the journey is wildly wonderful at times, but profoundly disappointng at others. 
I never placed my writing time above my time holding hands with Jesus, and for that I am grateful. 
I must be fed well in order to offer my truest heart to others in an effective way. 
So now I don’t write unless I feel called. Seriosly, in a hurricane -like force, called to write. Or called to speak. 
I spent too much time focusing on the wrong things. I forgot my true calling while listening to the wind of the “shoulds.”
  Gratitude flows through my heart as I hear how God worked in many peoples’ lives through sharing my story. 

Let me be forever true to the Lord I love with my whole being, and let my words always, forevermore set the captives free. 
Isn’t that why I write?~

 

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