Words failed me

Last week when I shared something on social media, I was severely misunderstood. As an introvert, the written word has always been my best means of communication. I grew up in an unsafe family, so I’ve spent a large portion of my life cowered by fear. When my words failed me, I pulled in, not even writing my blog. The old drive for safety reared, and I began to wonder how vulnerable I want to be, even here. Danger sign

Beyond my own personal angst, this event brought to focus the current atmosphere in our country. A host on TV interrupts guests or talks over them. Those on news opinion shows listen only long enough to launch their next shot, hollering louder to drown out the completion. Even the presidential election candidates behaved so rudely during the debates that I couldn’t watch them. That seems to have upped the ante across the board. Is shouting and name calling really desirable? What kind of values are represented here?

I began to wonder, in this environment, do I want to communicate at all?

And why am I writing?

The sad thing is, I’m pretty certain I know what I could write to have my blog garner notoriety. And I could churn out steamy romance novels, month after month, and rake in the money. There are many ways I could use my words to grab a bit of fame or fortune.

But that’s not my desire.

A moment of clarity. I must continue to communicate, the best I can, with as much love and truth as I can.

bridge in N C Smokey Mtns
Ecuador sunrise
Celery Fields, Sarasota, FL
ducks in Celery Fields, Sarasota, FL

I want my words to be a bridge to someone who’s never been where I dwell. Perhaps to a new freedom.

I want my words to paint a picture another has never conceived of.

I want my words to touch hearts.

To make a difference.

So when my words failed me, I felt like a failure.

After mulling it over, I determined not to return to the fear I lived with for so long. My slow freedom is worth holding on to, even with shaking hands and aching heart.

The truth is, I can build bridges, paint pictures, or sing songs. But I have no control over who walks over, who looks, or who receives.

If we’re honest, none of us can make another think as we do, see the world as we do, or feel as we do.

When I share a glimpse of peace, it is with an honest wish that we can all, once again, use words to heal and build up, rather than attack and destroy.

I keep hearing this song (link below) on the radio, and it plays in the background of my days, and some sleepless nights.

Is she right, that we can each bring our brokenness?

Could it be that we can disagree, but if we’re honest, still relate with love and respect?

Note: If you receive my posts by email, to hear a song, click the title of the blog, to go to the webpage version for an active link. (The pictures are usually better there, too.)