It’s the first day, and my first year, of Two Writing Teachers Slice of Life Story Challenge 2021. While blogging every single day in March seems like a daunting task, I’m excited to join the writing community!! To those who have participated in the challenge for years – thank you for your guidance. To those who are joining for the first time, too – we got this!
I recently shared with the Time to Write workshop group that as a planner, it feels overwhelming to attempt to crank out something new every day. For 31 days. I think my main fear is publishing “imperfect” words that I’m not sure I will later agree with because writing is so often my wonderings, my figuring out.
This reminded me of writer and theologian Kat Armas’s Instagram post caption from January in which she shares,
I realize that one of the hardest parts about putting your words on a page – fixed and static – is that it gives off the illusion that my ideas and my thoughts about God and life aren’t constantly in motion, shifting like the waves and the sand with every book I read and conversation I have and person I meet and prayer I pray.
As my blog name suggests, I pride myself in being “multifaceted.” Until recently, I thought that only referred to my identities, but it’s more than that. I am constantly seeking ideas that might confirm or challenge my thinking. I want to grow. I want to change for the better. My ideas and my thoughts, like Kat writes, often shift daily because of a new experience or enlightening conversation. However, I know I am resistant to the discomfort that comes with change.
Change. There is a tension in me: I want to change, yet others must believe I am steadfast. Even as I type it, it sounds silly that not wanting to be viewed as someone who changes her mind would be synonymous with being a woman who lacks courage.
Kat Armas concedes that her book does “nothing more than name the journey.”
And I hope that when I look back at it – in ten, fifteen, twenty years – if I no longer agree with the things I once wrote down, I’ll be reminded of the bigness of God. I hope that it’ll be a testament to divine mystery: how much there is to learn and to grow. And like the ocean that is both constant and ever changing, I’ll know the divine was and is present, offering newness and restoration every step of the way.
Ultimately, this is what I want. I am not God. My words, my thoughts, my ideas are not the solid rock. And during this month, I am going to seek to rejoice in this fact.