Thursday, August 21, 2014


I can over analyze the hell out of anything and everything. And lately, its my writing.

Its true.

Such as today, I posted on facebook that I was thankful for friends that carry hope for me, and who speak life, and I posted it.  And I meant it.  When suddenly, all I could think was that people would think less, that I'm too much, that I have too many emotions, and that something is wrong with ME.  And I deleted it, hoping that no one saw it.

That happens far too much. 

It also happens when I want to comment on blogs that I like, or when I write.    I worry about what other people who communicate with their words so effectively will think of me commenting.  Do they roll their eyes?  Do they sigh?   I want to thank people whose blogs have honestly brought me hope and freedom.  And that their writing has said to me "you aren't alone".   But I get awkward and weird and then afraid to do so. 

Or the fact I didn't finish college.  I'm not as educated.   I type and write like I speak, fully knowing that's not "how" to do it.  But its how I work.  Its how these thoughts come out.   I'm not eloquent.  I'm blunt.  I'm really honest.  I'm raw.  I don't know any other way to write.  And I may never.

I have a friend whose been encouraging me to write poetry.  Here's the honest thing... I'm afraid.  I'm afraid to.  Terrified.  I read others poems and I could never write like that.   I can almost hear him saying, "so write like you.."... maybe not, but I think that is close to what he would say.  

One of my greatest fears is to end up alone, and friendships change when you write honestly.  I had the same small group of friends back home.  As I've been writing, a few have backed off.  Some of it could be that seasons in friendships change at times.  But I know theologically, I'm a different woman than I was.  I see and smell and taste and believe the world differently than I did for so many years growing up that good Pentecostal girl who honestly just always pretended to have it together.   I also know that in that environment, at times we took it very literally that if someone is not believing like you,  and they don't heed your warnings/advice, its best to just back off because you can't be close friends with them anymore...   A few I love dearly, they believe that.  I fear losing more friends that I love.

But here's the truth... or truths:

I have to write.  I have a million words all the time, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't put them somewhere. 

I want to write poetry even if they are stupid, or ridiculous, and  if only I and perhaps a friend or two ever read them. 

I have to come to love this passionate, emotional part of me.  Its Andrea.  Its who I am.  I want to always feel and love deeply.  I want to feel it all deeply.   Its often an equal blessing as it is a curse.   And I am often a raging sea rather than a calm one.

I don't have it together.  I may never.

I find God in different places than I used to.  Nature.  Partaking of the Eucharist on Sunday mornings.  In the faces of the tribe I call church.   In sacred spaces that I've found I have to carve out for me... in the quiet.    On this wilderness road that has been lonely, often I'm met there.  I love Jesus.  Probably  more than ever before.  But its a honest, raw, relationship that we have.  And I have found a love that I don't earn, and a God I don't have to perform for.  There's freedom there.

I am not afraid of asking the questions.  Of challenging what I've believed my whole life.  And I'm working at not being afraid in the risk of writing them.  I may lose friends.  I may have people say mean things.  I may not be accepted.  BUT... I will make new friends.  I will have people say good things, AND... I will be accepted in another circle. 

But with all that overanalyzing said... its still worth it.   I will still write, even if not a soul reads it anymore. 

Because I think its worth it.