I only wish it was all about ME

Well, if there is anything I’ve relearned (again) in this past month, it’s that’s it’s not all about me.

BIG sigh.

How many times am I going to get to learn this lesson?

I’ve had a break from writing for my church’s blog for a while, and while this has ended up being a very good thing, I, at first thought it wasn’t going to be good for me.

Ahem, good for me. No, wasn't concerned about you, not for the reading audience, but for me.

Hear that annoying whine in the background? Yeah, it’s me.

So the mini sabbatical- ain’t a bad thing. I have needed a break, a moment to step back and re-assess if this writing thing is helping me or hurting me.

At the moment, it’s really neither, and I while I think others are interested in my writing, it certainly does not warrant the big fat attitude and big fat head that I’ve developed in the meantime.

It’s a good thing, really, when the hard stuff happens to us, when things go awry, when the wheels fall off, when things go as predictable as a cat…when the claws come out after the purring.

So the bad stuff…the bad stuff, the annoying stuff, the irritating stuff is actually for good because it allows a sense of grace, of peace, after, of course, after you’ve allowed all the cussing and heartache and bitterness to pass through.

There hasn’t been one time that I’ve regretted how life has turned out; but was there obstacles, speed bumps and sharp learning curves (and lots of choice words) along the way?

Absolutely.

But have I learned more about myself, my life and my (ahem) lack of patience during the annoying, why-won’t-anything-go-my-way times?

Absolutely.

And thanks to those frustrating times, I am on my way to becoming the person I have always wanted to be; I am being molded, from lump of soggy, wet, mushy clay, to something pretty, something useful, something gracious along the way.

All that to say this-I am so happy because what I realized during the break was this: my writing had become more about what comments or trackbacks I was getting as opposed to something true, from the heart, something deep, real and touching; which is really what my writing should have been centered around to begin with.

And I finally realize this. And I (finally) realize what is truly important.

As I thought I’ve learned so many times before, it’s not about me.
Oh Lord, it’s not about me.