I'm waiting for it. Maybe you are too.
It's not pretty. And it's not something that I like to admit. But it's something that I know is true of myself. So since the sun is shining bright on the city streets below our third floor condo, I might as well let the sun shine bright on those parts of my heart that I like to hide.
Dr. Phil. Rachel Ray. Suze Orman. Nate Berkus. That person who wrote "The Secret." What do they have in common? Oprah Winfrey.
Oprah met these individuals. Recognized something special about them. And gave them a platform. She introduced them to the world. She helped mold them. And she launched them into their own unique careers.
No, this isn't a post about Oprah, but what I call the "Oprah Moment." I don't know if you want one. But I do, and that's the part of me that I want to hide and minimize.
The premise of this theory of mine is that deep down we want that moment where someone looks at us and says, "You. You there. You are good. You are talented. Your voice is needed. Write!" And with that they not only give us their blessing, but then share our words, the words that we have been crying over, praying over, and sweating over. They share them with the world, add us to their Google reader, and just like that we have it - validation.
Validation for the stolen moments writing. For the thoughts that drifted as we were rewriting a transition in our head. For notes scribbled on every piece of paper in the house. For asking for a sitter so we can get away and have two hours of quiet. For time spent on Twitter and Facebook. For reading blogs. For reading books. For all of it.
And yes, it is ridiculous. I am so aware of it. But deep down...deep down it's there. It's longing. It's feeling unworthy. And it's comparison.
Comparison is ugly. And it's dark. It's the cloud covering up a shining sun. It obscures. It steals.
This heart of mine? It's pretty tender. And it feels things deeply. And it can be hurt easily. I have allowed comparison to hurt me. To wound me.
My joy hides. It hides behind stats. It hides behind page views. It hides behind followers. It hides behinds likes and shares. It's stupid and it has to stop.
I am part of an amazing group of women going through a writing adventure together. And each week, each day, we become more brave. We try new things. And no one is comparing themselves. We affirm. We push. We don't steal joy.
Each day we tell each other, "You. You there. You are good. You are talented. Your voice is needed. Write!" Here the encouragement of fellow storytellers and creatives helps push away the comparison that is clouding our joy.
Odds are, I may never get my own Oprah moment, and that's okay. I'm grateful to be surrounded by folks who do encourage me here at my tiny corner of the blogosphere.
And at the end of the day, when the girls are sleeping and the lights have turned off, and the only sound is the hum of cars below and the tinkling of the wind chimes, I'll remember that my words are given to me by my Creator. I'll close off to the noise that tends to fill my ears and I'll hear His words as I drift off to sleep. "You. You there. You are good. you are talented. Your voice is needed. Write!"
That. That will be my joy.
On Thursdays we gather together to celebrate redemption. I'm so excited to be a part of this team! Want to join?
- Link up a post (old or new) that relates to this week's prompt: JOY
- Put the "Imperfect Prose" button at the bottom of your post, so others can find there way there
- Read each other's posts and encourage them