Author: writingfree1

“We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open.  You are not restricted by us, but you are restricted in your own affections.  In return (I speak as to children) widen your hearts also” (2 Corinthians 6:11-13).   

Children are free.  Children follow their own instincts and do not let anything restrict them.  They can trust anyone that their parents or caregivers say are safe.  If children have good relationships with their parents, babysitters, teachers, or relatives, they can trust the people that these authority figures put in their lives.

As children get older, their dreams fade. They encounter people that abuse their innocence, hurting them in the process.  So they stop dreaming.  They stop taking risks.  Their teenage years are filled with angst, because there is a battle between what they want to do and what they should do.  Ex-lovers, step parents, and classmates continue to tell them to stop hoping.  To protect the little hope that they have, they close their hearts.  No one can take this from me, they say, swearing that they will build up walls, not just against negativity, but against everyone and everything.  Without taking risks, their hope dies, and there is nothing left but bitterness and limitations.

Last blog post, I talked about the importance of community.  However, I understand that asking help from others and living in community involves taking risks.  You need to be vulnerable, and that’s not easy.  How do you know that those who are around you will not tear you down instead of build you up?

I know what it feels like to have someone tear me down.  There was an issue that I was struggling with that no one knew about at the time.  I opened up my heart and shared this struggle with someone I knew.  Instantly, this person tried to fix me by giving me Bible verses and telling me that the way I was handling it was not right.  In that moment, my feelings were not validated.  Since then, I could not tell anyone about this issue.  I closed my heart.

In my last semester of college,  I became part of a small group of women that claimed that they were a safe community.  Nevertheless, when I first met them, I made a promise to myself: I will not tell anyone about my deep issue. Telling people will not help. It will only make it worse.  Eventually, after getting to know the group, I realized that they were trustworthy people.

One day, I didn’t feel like being at our meeting.  One of my friends looked at me.  “You look like you need to talk.”  I didn’t. Well, at least, I didn’t think I needed to talk.  But since she asked, I started talking.  I mentioned very basic concerns that I had.  Then I stopped.  Everyone looked at me, waiting for me to finish. I went a little bit deeper.  Then I stopped.  I knew where this was going.  They looked at me again.  Apparently, it was obvious that I needed to share.  I opened my heart up completely.  What had locked up my heart for years was spewed out in front of me onto the floor.  I couldn’t stop talking.

I stared at the floor, refusing to look up.  I just wanted my friends to go away, hoping that they wouldn’t judge me like I knew they would.  One of my friends said, “Look up!”  Finally, I did.  They simply smiled at me.  As we hugged, a few of them told me that they were proud of me and that they already saw a difference in me. No one said anything judgmental.  They had proven their promise.  They are a safe community.  They became my close friends.  I didn’t only open up to them; they opened up to me.  Because of their trustworthiness, it became easier for me to open my heart.

But how did I get there in the first place?  The only reason I could give is that the Lord is my defender.  Since God is faithful, if all else fails (and honestly, all else will fail), I know I can trust God.  My friends are a gift from God, so I can trust them.  If I can’t trust them…well, I’ve been hurt before, and it hasn’t killed me yet!  Regardless of what you’re going through, the way to be free is to open up your heart.

Now that you are mature, you are not bound by the restrictions of other people.  The only thing holding you back is your own fears.  Let yourself dream.  Don’t be afraid of risks.  Risks may be scary, but that voice telling you to stop has no power anymore.  Be childlike and trust those around you in confidence that nothing they can do will destroy you.

As a child, I would always look back at my mom before doing anything.  If an older person asked me a question, I would look back at my dad for an answer.  If my friend wanted to come over, my eyes would avert to my mom, who would give me the okay.  When I was in high school, I had to ask permission from my mom to go anywhere. I would have to tell her where I was going, what I would be doing, and how long it would take.

From a young age, I longed for the opportunity to go overseas.  I wanted to travel the world and write about my experiences.  I waited for the chance to make my own decisions.  As a child, since I was not wise enough to make my own decisions, I depended on the will of my parents.

Yesterday, my mom and I were driving to visit my grandpa.  My mom told me that since I was a little girl, I always had peace and confidence in myself, so she knew that I would travel the world someday.  I looked at her, surprised.  “Does that mean I can overseas?” I asked.  “Of course.  You just graduated from college.  You’re own your own now.”  At that moment, my mom told me the words I had always wanted to hear.  I am free to go wherever I want.  There are no limits.  I am on my own.

From the time we are able to speak, we are trained to learn how to live without the help of others. Our ultimate prize is buying our own homes and having our own incomes.  We learn to think for ourselves, and we are taught to fight to uphold our own arguments.  Our parents bring us to daycare or school so that we could gain an education away from our homes.  This encourages us to one day leave the nest and have our own jobs.  We wait for the day when we can say, “I’m on my own now.”

After pondering this statement, I began to wonder: is independence really a true sign of maturity?  Although all of these are all good things, living with the help of others is not childish.  Sure, we may need to break free from the finances and shelter of our parents, but we are not supposed to live life completely alone.

Unfortunately, I believed that I was supposed to do everything on my own for longer than I would like to admit.  I was afraid of asking for help, and I boasted whenever I accomplished any task by my own strength.  Despite the smile on my face, I desperately desired the help of others. I desired someone to help me carry my burdens with me.  I knew that if I asked for help, I would look like a failure or a drama queen, so I kept my mouth shut.

Going to a small college changed my mindset about asking for help.  My classmates and I were like a family, holding doors open for each other and eating together at dinner.  My friends would ask me about my day, their eyes shining with curiosity.  Eventually,  I opened up to them.  I told them my mistakes, my concerns, my fears, and my faults.  They walked alongside me, helping me get back on my feet and figure out my life.

In the Bible, James writes that we do not have because we do not ask (4:2).  Instead, God promises to strengthen us and help us (Isaiah 41:10); all we have to do is ask.  We can ask for help from God as well as from our friends.  Ecclesiastes 4 says that it is better to have someone help you when you fall than to be alone.  Your friends will listen to your problems, successes, and failures and help you to live in a mature way.  Mentors and people in authority can give you wise counsel.  They can see an outside perspective of the situation so that you can make better decisions.

I am excited about having the freedom to go where I want.  However, I do not need to burn bridges just because I am growing into maturity.  As a matter of fact, I need the encouragement and admonishment of other people in order to fully thrive.  I am so thankful for the people that have brought me through college, and I look forward to meeting (or continuing to know) the people that will help me in this next season of my life.

Asking for help is not childish.  Be childlike, and ask for help whenever you need it.  You will be surprised at how much you can grow with the help of your friends, family, and colleagues.

Being a writer has been my dream since I was six years old.  I had been a good writer in elementary school and middle school, but once I hit high school, no one seemed to care that I was the best reader of my kindergarten class and the best writer of my first, second, and third grade classes.  In fact, most of my English teachers did not encourage me to be a writer.  One of my teachers in high school accused me of plagiarism.  After someone who should know a thing or two about English insulted my ability to write a good paper, it became difficult to accept compliments about my writing.  So I stopped.  Instead of writing poems and short stories after school, I would pick up my guitar or violin and sing songs that had already been written.  Instead of writing papers that expressed my voice, I wrote whatever my teachers wanted me to write.  I lost my voice.  Whatever awards I had won in the past did not matter anymore.  If I did not have the opportunity to use my voice, there was no way I could develop it.

In college, I studied Intercultural Studies.  I had developed a passion for learning about other cultures.  Nevertheless, writing followed me.  My friends asked me to look over their school papers.  Even though it was extra work, every time they asked me, I enjoyed using the editing skills that I had learned at a young age.  In my sophomore year of college, I decided to join the school’s newspaper staff.  I had been the editor-in-chief of my high school’s newspaper, so I thought I could try writing again.  Later in the semester, I applied to work at my college’s writing center.  Although I was nervous that I was not a good enough writer for this position, my colleagues saw potential in me that I had not been able to see in myself.

Eventually, my identity on my campus was the girl who worked at the writing center.  I loved helping students with their papers more than anything else.  Because of the criticism that I faced in eleventh grade, I was able to empathize with students who did not have confidence in their papers.  People began to come to me because they knew that I could see the good in their papers.

I still did not have confidence in my writing, even after becoming layout editor of my school’s newspaper and having students request me at my job.  My friends would tell me that I should change my major to English.  I made up excuses, but the truth is that I was scared of rejection yet again.  English professors, who have doctorates in English, should know good writing when they see it, and I was scared that they would not consider my writing “good.”  Besides, I enjoyed my Intercultural Studies major.  I did not want to change majors when I was already in such a great program.

My major actually encouraged me to break out of my fear of writing.  I was required to go out of the country and serve in some way overseas.  Before I went to Spain, I wrote a travel blog.  While out of the country, I journaled to process my feelings.  During siesta, I would sit on the couch and write (in English and Spanish) pages and pages of emotions and events.  I continued to journal when I returned from Spain.  I would write everything in my journal, from reminders to inspiring quotations to my own feelings.  I wanted to remember everything I heard and felt so that I could look back on it in the future.

My friends would notice my journals.  They were able to see that I had not only the ability but the passion to write.  My passion for writing was something I could not hide, no matter how hard I tried to pretend it was not a big deal to me.  During my last semester of college, I met a great group of people that helped me to feel confident in myself as well as in my writing.  They were able to show me that my English teacher in high school told me a lie that I believed for years: This paper is too good to be your writing.  You’re not THAT good. I had so many people encourage me, that the lie suddenly did not make sense anymore.  I realized that writing is not just what I do; writing is who I am.

So this is my voice.  I am not afraid of it anymore.  I welcome constructive criticism, but nothing can stop me from speaking what I have to say.  I have a faith in and relationship with God that will become evident in my writing; it is not something I will try to hide.  As you read this blog, I hope that it encourages you to know that your words matter.  You have the power to speak life or to speak death.  You can use your voice to ruin a person’s dream, or you can use your voice to help those in need.  I am going to use my voice to speak truth, hope, and love, and to encourage those who do not have a voice to stand firm in who they are.