Reflections on Life and Failure

Tonight, I write to make sense of life and reflect on failure too.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed hosting guest bloggers for the past few months, but I felt a stir in my spirit tonight. So, instead of sleep, I will listen to that still small voice and write.

Write aloud.

Write to heal.

I started a series called Monday Meditations last month and it has not gone well. In fact, it failed.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I got more than 30-40 hits per blog. Compared to the almost hundreds (sometimes thousands) of hits I got for previous series including I Survived My 20s or Pre Engagement Questions–this is shocking.

Well, not really.

Devotionals aren’t a hot topic anymore. I should know because I am the self-proclaimed “Devotional Diva” (insert registered trademark here).

Also, if you choose to write for 20-somethings that’s another strike against you. I won’t even mention how bad the publishing market is right now.

Strike three.

I’m out.

In the midst of reflecting on life and failure, what has encouraged me most are my family and friends. I am truly grateful for my husband, my parents, and the many-many friends on and offline who have taken the time to send me messages.

What I want to say to you all is–Thank You.

Your messages keep me going. I don’t always get a chance to say it, but as a writer I absorb every word.

I am like a leaky sponge–who at the end of a project–gets wrung out for all to read. I bleed words.

Sometimes this is a good thing.

And sometimes–deadly.

Recently, I have kept quiet about a few things because I’ve been intentionally working on my character.

Instead of blurting out or pressing the enter key–I’ve kept it to myself. I’ve recently learned this trait from my husband who doesn’t get easily upset or emotional about anything, really.

It’s a gift.

And as his wife I crave that gift.

I feel social media has become a place for writers to complain and get way more attention than they really need. I know because I’m guilty. I almost deleted Twitter a few months ago, and if it weren’t for Hootsuite–I might have done it.

I wanted to be one of those authors who doesn’t schedule anything. I wanted every word to be directly from me. My heart.

Instead, what I found was that no one noticed.

It was like nothing had changed.

Life still went on.

I know it’s nice when people comment or say things or make you feel appreciated.

I LOVE being people’s personal cheerleader. One of the most consistent phrases my mother (and father if he admits it) says to me is,

“I miss my sunshine girl.”

I appreciate being able to use the gift of writing and pour out like water the stories from my life–and the lives of others. Every email or direct message I get from someone who asks to share their story is like a child asking their parent to feed it–OF COURSE I want to share it.

So when I respond to every message, Tweet, or Facebook post that comes my way and someone doesn’t message me back–it’s hard NOT to take it personal.

I feel like a failure.

I don’t feel important enough.

BIG enough.

Loud enough.

This year God has taught me a lot about how to remain intentional.

No matter who sees.

No matter who takes the time to respond.

God cares and that’s all that matters to me in the end.

I’ll end with this quote from Love Does by Bob Goff, whom I had the pleasure of meeting this Sunday at The Church at RB in San Diego, CA.

If you’re an author like me too–I know you’ll appreciate this quote.

Enjoy.

“I used to be afraid at failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m afraid at succeeding at things that don’t matter…The thing I love about God is He intentionally guides people into failure. He made us to be born as little kids who can’t walk or talk or even use the bathroom correctly.  We have to be taught everything. All that learning takes time, and He made us so we are dependent on Him, our parents, and each other. The whole thing is designed so we try again and again until we finally get it right. And the whole time He is endlessly patient.”

I appreciate you all. Goodnight.