The Power of Words

There are only so many ways to say what I am feeling. I have started and stopped so many posts in the past 8 weeks it would make your head spin, and it all comes down to this:  I am afraid to write.

This is a crippling problem when your most gratifying outlet, is that very thing.

Have I seemed a little up tight lately? Brian is trying to convince me to get a bike to match his (can you EVEN imagine me on a motorcycle?!) … still, nothing is as good an outlet for me as writing.

When I wrote a couple months back, reflecting on one aspect of my experience with my dad, I never expected that I would receive snail mail and email from my family expressing such strong emotion about it. Much of it I appreciated greatly, reaffirming to me wonderful things about him, some that I had never heard or known. But not all of it was favorable, exactly. Some of it was angry. My fingers are hovering over the keyboard here. I feel like I want to defend myself. I want to explain and reason and tell it like I’ve known it. But anytime I attempt to do so, it feels pointless. Delete, and close.

My experience as a daughter was different than theirs. I don’t need to explain that.

My post was a reflection of what was on my heart that DAY. Not my summation of his life or the whole of my experience as his daughter. For crying out loud, he was my dad. I have a picture framed of him just looking at me, because it is the sweetest, proudest, most loving look a camera could capture and I feel it when I lay eyes on it. Something catches in my chest when I look at his face. I continue to love my dad just as I knew him, quite possibly even more, as my compassion for him has grown over the years. But as an adult, I have adult size questions. And that’s fair to have.

As a result of that post, I was referred to as being self-righteous and months later I struggle with it. Still. It hurt me so deeply. I am certain it came from someone who knows me, but doesn’t know me at all and read that one post, that one day… not the others I’ve written over the many years of blogging. But I digress. Words hurt.

Even so, I wondered, Is that what people think of me? Oh, my heart hurrrrrt. Scary idea. Scary thought. Makes me well up with tears each time I pose the question in my head. Like right now.

A devo I read the other day, written from the perspective of God talking TO you, said, “…Do not think that since I know all about you, you need not bother to tell Me. It is true that I know, but you need to tell Me so that in the telling, you may experience the release of an open heart and the fellowship of a Friend…” The Lord’s timing is always perfection.

I crawled in bed, curled up in my well memorized memory-foam trench and ultimately fell asleep telling Him everything. There was a lot. I’ve somehow fallen into a season of leaving the daily stuff out of my prayers and just thinking about the bigger stuff of life, like fear and parenting. And fear of parenting.

But last night, I was freshening up my makeup in the mirror and as I looked on at my reflection it just flowed out of my heart…  something I wanted to ask but was terrified to hear the answer to, “How do YOU see me Lord?” and without a beat, He replied, “You are scarred. But so am I. It’s a beautiful thing.”

I might never forget it.

Some of life leaves marks and impressions; some of it leaves scars. But all of it passes through His hands so that we would draw closer to Him and OWN the fact that we are nothing without Him.

As wild as it is, a day can feel so long and yet as I look at my kids, it seems the years are slipping through my fingers… even so, this life is but a vapor. This wholeeverything as we know it…

A vapor.

And when I think of time in terms of eternity as best my mind can fathom it, I am able to refocus. I can take a pointed finger and hurtful words and use them as a powerful means of checks & balances, get right, and keep on.

Because for me, for now, it’s just as @prodigaljohn said it, “Don’t quit writing, the act is the reward.”

So I will write.

My experiences and what I’m processing and learning have already passed through Someone’s hands. This life is not my own. I see no reason to withold it.


~ by hthr on October 27, 2010.

6 Responses to “The Power of Words”

  1. You truly have a gift, my friend! I love your words!

  2. Beautifully written! God has not given you a spirit of fear, so know that it is Satam who does not want you to write. Press on!

  3. Thanks for being so open and honest…regardless of what it is. It takes a courage and strength that few have these days.

  4. Well done sweetheart!!!!! But I thought the one about your dad was excellent(didn’t know u had a fan?)…..Satan will attack our greatest gifts and make them seem like our greatest burdens….on this one….he did not prevail….I am proud of you …..I see you as you are meant to be seen…..HIS GREAT DELIGHT!….I love you…

  5. Wow Heather, I had to go back to read the post about your dad and I’m blown away. You’re such a good person, and honestly, I think as his child, you are so entitled to feeling, writing, expressing whatever it is you truly feel… especially considering some of the things you and your family experienced. A parent child connection is like nothing else, and both of your posts are so filled with Christlike love, I’m surprised at the backlash. I applaud your honesty and appreciate your example.

  6. Those words are like seven arrows in me…. Your sincerity and honesty is commendable. so also is your clarity of thought… You are a rarity, i love your writeup

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