If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love,
I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.
[I Corinthians 13:1, the Message]
This past weekend, I was challenged to know the why behind my writing. Why do I take time to put words in this space?
I couldn’t answer.
It’s why I took a hiatus a few years back. I wanted to come back knowing my why. Yet, I didn’t.
I still somehow felt the need to come back. To write. No matter the numbers, no matter the stats, no matter the worldly “success.”
I just wanted to write it down. I wanted to remember. I needed to. For some reason: I needed to write again.
And as I look through my notes and chicken scratches from the Influence Conference. I realized that I had so many action items, so many goals, so many to-do’s that needed to be checked off. So many feelings of “the way I’m doing it isn’t good enough – I should be doing this. or that.”
So many variations of the question, “Is it worth it?”
I’ve always said that I tend to do things the Kacia way. I like different. I like unique.
Yet I found myself thinking “If I do what they do, I will be successful.” “If only….then this.”
I found myself sounding like a rusty gate. A clanging cymbal.
But more than that, I want my priorities to be inline. I want my husband to say that I am intentional and a wife of purpose. I want my children to say that I was there and present.
I want my words to be a journal they can look back on – but more so, I want my life and the time spent with them to be my love letter.
I want the words I say + type to be laced with love.
And somehow, I pray I learn how to wrestle with the talents and dreams and ideas and goals I do have for my life. The woman described in Proverbs 31 isn’t dumb, and she isn’t fearful. She is intentional in every sense of the word: as a child of God, as a wife, as a mother, a friend, a business woman…
I don’t have to choose one or the other. It’s not “be a mom and wife or follow your dreams.” But it’s finding a balance. It’s putting Him first. It’s putting Him before everything else.
So I pray that somehow He uses my mess. Because it’s messy. I am messy.
I’m still learning that He can make the mess beautiful. And struggling to believe that I’m worth it.