“I don’t know what I’m like. I get glimpses of myself in other people’s eyes. I try to be careful whom I use as a mirror.” – Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet
On a good day I know what I write matters. But not all days are good days.
The words I share on this blog are not only for one particular audience, but for anyone who wants to come to sit at my table. And their words are a benefit to me, too.
I’m gentle by nature, I like rom-coms, I think daily about Jesus, faith, culture, grace, and people. I write to see for myself the things I think about, but I don’t write down everything. Hardly any of it.
I share my life on the internet, yet I am fairly private.
I sometimes wish I was more naturally carefree. Like I used to be. Instead I have to work at it.
I confess my tendency to try to see myself through someone else’s eyes. I also confess how terrible I am at it.
I shut people out and lock myself in. Even though I know better.
This post is tough to write because it feels so painfully self-absorbed. And it is, I admit. But I write it because I think you can relate. Don’t we all question where we fit and how we’re perceived? Don’t we all protect the child within, longing for security, acceptance, and love? Don’t we all hope for connection but often choose self preservation instead?
As it turns out, I don’t have to define myself. I simply have to be myself.