Celebrate Your Strengths

I wish I had understood my bent for writing years ago. Perhaps I would have not been so backward about developing my talent. There was no internet, no writing group, no way of finding those other special people like you. You writers know what I'm talking about. The rest of you will just have to hang in here and hear me out. I thought I was weird. I thought I was the only one. I lived inside my head for many years--afraid to say what was burning in my mind.

Everyone talked about how shy I was, how quiet in public. And I was. To this day I find it hard to relax in public scenarios. I am constantly interpreting the signals people send me. Sometimes I get them wrong. I was wrong about how different I perceived myself to be. I was wrong in thinking that because I was different no one would want to hear what I had to say. I was wrong in thinking that because I loved literature and art and music that people would find me geekish and boring. Of course, some of you do. And I can truly say now, that's okay.

My sisters will tell you that the three of us are the way we are because we came from a dysfunctional family. We have been told that, other than favoring each other a bit, we are nothing alike. That's probably a good thing.

My older sister is the mechanically inclined, outgoing, and outspoken one. She is a medical lab technician, who not only can run all sorts of blood tests and interpret them, but when the machines fail her, she takes them apart and fixes them -- million dollar pieces of equipment. She also went to Bible college, and is extremely learned in the Scriptures. She has no problem preparing a lesson or sermon and giving it. If she has an opinion on something, you will know it.

My baby sister is a homemaker with an eye for beauty and decor. She is a licensed beautician -- complete with the prerequisite listening skills and wonderful sense of humor we all require in ours. Her laughter is infectious. She also is adept at making beautiful floral arrangements and wraps the prettiest present you will ever see. And you will never put a finer chocolate or coconut cream pie in your mouth than the one she makes. They're the best, bar none.

I, on the other hand, could not fix a lawnmower if my life depended upon it. I have worn my hair short most of my 40 years because I could not fix it either. I despise public speaking, wrapping presents, and my meals for the most part come out of boxes and cans. I spent my childhood reading. When it came time to choose a major in college, there were so many I wanted to choose, that I made no choice until my Junior year. That's when I realized I had racked up so many English and Psychology courses that that had to be it. English was my major. I loved to learn. I wanted to major in everything. If I had my way, I would still be sitting in a classroom soaking up the knowledge. I lived for the pressure of deadlines and exams. I excel under pressure.

I always knew I was a writer. I just never thought anyone would want to read what I had written. Family would beg to read some of my work, and I would shrug them off. What if they didn't like it? What if they thought it sentimental hogwash? What if they made fun of it?
It has taken me many, many years to overcome those feelings and be able to say to myself, "So what!" I still want to write. I still have something to say. They're my words, my thoughts, and my babies. And thank goodness, one of my babies is close to being birthed. I can't wait to celebrate it!