The Messy Beginning

I looked at the text and thought, “Why did I stop? Why didn’t what he told me register?” 

But I did stop, and so here I am…again… about nine years later. Sitting down with my laptop humming loudly on my lap. The washer whirring and the voices of my now, much older, girls playing a delightful hum in the background.

Document open. Blank page. Cursor blinking. 

But you know how the moment you actually carve out time to do something it’s like your mind goes blank or the spark just isn’t there? The excitement and clarity you felt earlier just feels… gone? 

The blank canvas now feels much more intimidating than it did in your mind. The empty room feels exposing and the dance doesn’t flow. The paper isn’t quite capturing the lyrics you had in mind. 

The bridge from an idea to a creation is the one the enemy never wants us to take. 

Earlier, thoughts raced of all the things I want to share; things I know could help someone out there, because they’re things I could’ve used earlier in my journey too. And I’ve come to see we’re all a lot more the same than we’re not. But now the plethora of ideas and excitement that felt almost impossible to turn off earlier today – in order to be in the present – now feels flat and boring. 

And I suppose this is probably a big part of why I stopped. It never seems like the “right” moment. I never feel like I have the “right” thing to say. I always want it to be something more powerful and polished. Knowing if I never start, it’s guaranteed never to be either. But also feeling like what’s the point of sharing something that isn’t impactful? That just takes up more space and creates more noise in our oversaturated sharing world.

And I don’t want to create more noise just to meet a posting quota or appease an algorithm. I want to create something that actually deserves to be seen, needs to be said. And honestly that can be a lot of pressure to get it polished and articulate right outta the gate.

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried. Actually not even close to the first time. I’ve started and stopped so many businesses and accounts and attempts to share my thoughts that I can’t keep count, it’s a bit comical to me now  in retrospect actually. It’s crazy the things we’ll do and how out of alignment we’ll live when we feel like we have to justify our existence.

But with that weight removed (mostly anyway, thank goodness), my heart longs to create and share and put out into the world the things that thousands of notes on my phone can’t contain anymore. The things I feel God is pulling me to share. The things that maybe could help heal someone else’s heart just a little bit more or help someone feel just a little less alone.

It’s hard to think of all the time, the nine years I could’ve just chugged along, day by day, sharing all along. The “if I just would have” feeling. The growth and progress that could’ve been made. Time seemingly wasted. Opportunities seemingly gone.

But there’s another nudge that sits deeper. More steady and true. At least I hope so.

That maybe this is the type of bud that needed time in the dark to grow its roots deep before it bloomed into the light for others to see. Maybe this is the type of bud that needed space. A bulb that needed the winter so it could share its beauty in the light of spring. Maybe it’s the type of seed that needs no one to see. Stillness. Silence. Rootedness. Before it’s actually time for it to be seen and shared.

Maybe years ago wasn’t the time for that. I could’ve kept going, kept chugging along, kept trying and stuck with it. And, true, maybe something amazing would’ve come of it. But also, who knows what cost may have come along too.

Maybe it’s actually best this way – and either way – it is what it is. And starting now is better than starting never.

Years ago, I was a brand new mom, with a brand new baby, trying to figure out how I could stay home and still provide for my family while my husband went to pilot school.

So I started a blog. I learned a lot about the ins and outs of blogging, affiliate marketing, and how to make money from people buying things linked on your blog. But the math did not look promising to me and my brain couldn’t fathom at the time how making pennies off of someone’s purchase of a pack of baby bottles could ever legitimately meet our needs, so I got about three blogs in before stopping.

But even though only three blogs were ever made… someone was still impacted. 

And since it was basically just my family who read it at the time, lol, it’s not surprising that it was someone from my family. 

Fast forward almost nine years later and somehow I came across the text. The text telling me that because of what I wrote in one of those three blogs – what I chose to sit down, take the time to type, and what I had to work up the courage to press post – led my dad to chose to do something new and spontaneous. Inspired him to live a little more fully.

At the time, it basically went in one ear and out the other. Not even registered. But looking back and after years of my life being benefited by people sharing parts of their life, their thoughts, and often especially, the mess and not always perfectly put together parts. 

It’s starting to actually sink in that our stories and perspectives are what connect us. I think it’s part of why we’re here together having this human experience together. Our stories aren’t just for us but are also for all the other people who could be touched. Sharing what God put in our heart in any of its forms – conversation, art, dancing, writing, and endless possibilities – is one of the beautiful ways He actually speaks to us. Through us. 

As Ram Dass said, “We’re all just walking each other home.” 

And even though we might feel like we have nothing anyone else would want. Or that writing or saying something might not help anyone (aka how I feel right now).

I think three blogs nine years ago says we’d be surprised. My dad told me how it helped him.

But think of all the people who never say a word but walk away lifted. Think of all the times you have watched or heard or saw or scrolled past something that changed you and they’ll never know. 

So here’s a messy. Not perfect. Very rough first try again after nine years – with a bit of stops and starts in between.

Here’s a not polished. Not grammatically or politically correct. Probably cringe start. Because I want to start, and I have to start somewhere. 

Maybe it will help you and maybe it won’t. But it is guaranteed to at least help one person… me. Because whether or not anyone appreciates the flower, it still grows in the process.

Maybe you’re in your winter. Your time to keep going deep. Silence. Stillness. 

Or maybe it’s time for your spring. For you to start to share. And I have to include a few gentle caveats – probably not all at once. I’m not aware of anything that grows suddenly into full bloom. But inch by inch, day by day, little by little. Not necessarily beautiful and polished at first, but growing.

In the past, trying to prove worth through achievement, anytime I read or heard anything from anyone that even hinted at me needing to start taking action I felt like I HAD to start DOING something. And it led to a lot of starting and stopping and unneeded stress and havoc. 

You’re the only one who knows the season you’re meant to be in, lean into it. Whatever it is. 

Honor your inner voice that tells you when it’s time. And when it is – I hope you’ll remember a girl sitting on her cozy white chair somewhere on the same planet who chose to have the courage to do it too. And we can both believe together that our unique perspectives are exactly what someone else needs. And who knows? Maybe, someday, we’ll even be that gift for each other.

XO, Ren

Here’s a meditation that goes along with the idea of leaning into the rest and budding period if that’s where you feel like you might be right now: