I’ve always loved writing, but I’ve never been the most natural at it. Words are hard. I often struggle to find the right words to accurately convey the message I wish to get across, I have more frustrating “tip of the tongue” moments than I probably should, and have googled “another word for ____” or “what is it called when ____” more than I care to admit. I’m not the most eloquent speaker, I’m awkward, my thoughts sound better in my head than spoken aloud, sometimes my writing isn’t grammatically correct, I ramble a lot and am not a great storyteller, I often speak redundantly and go around in circles – the list could go on and on.
For so long, I let those fears stop me from writing. Sometimes I wouldn’t even write in my personal journal unless my thoughts were organized to my liking despite my entries being for my eyes only. And those fears are still very real. I honestly still don’t think I have anything that important to say and I don’t think I’m good enough or interesting enough to write. There are plenty of articles, posts, resources online that offer much more substance. Those reasons are valid, but then this question comes to mind – how do I know what will be helpful for someone else? What would be or won’t be helpful?
Which leads me to respond with this: even if it helps one person in this world, then it is all worth it. And that isn’t exclusive to just writing. We don’t know how much impact we can make. So that thing that we are afraid of doing that has the possibility of helping someone in any way – whatever that thing is, it might just be what someone needed to read, see, or hear. Whether it’s sharing an experience that brought you so much pain but helps someone feel a little less alone in their season of life, calling an old friend or family member despite it being awkward, going out of your way to be there for someone even if it’s inconvenient and uncomfortable for you, or even a detail as small as bringing a smile on their face on a particularly rough day can have such an drastic impact.
Just one
When I got baptized at my church, I was asked to share my testimony in front of the entire church congregation, including my friends and family. I was nervous. But as I was sitting listening to my pastor’s sermon knowing that in a few short minutes it would be time to stand up and share, these words kept echoing in my heart – Just one, Lord. Just one. And instantly, I was filled with so much comfort. If my testimony, sharing about who God is and how amazing He is and all the ways He has revealed Himself to me, if it encouraged even just one person sitting in the congregation in any way, then I have to do it because it’s worth it. If it made a difference to just one person.
And what if it doesn’t help anyone? What if our words and actions don’t make a tangible impact? Well, even if it wasn’t helpful for anyone else, then at least writing it, saying it, doing the action, going through with it anyway was hopefully helpful to you, and that’s never a waste of time. It’s not any less helpful because you were the only beneficiary. Relating it back to writing, I choose to write for myself because even if it doesn’t help anyone else, at least it helps me. And to anyone who may be reading, please don’t think that you don’t have anything worthwhile to contribute. What you have to say matters. You matter. Your experiences are unique; they have influenced you and shaped you into the person you are today and the person you will become. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, made for such a special purpose. And You are capable of making a difference.
Why Do You Write?
Ask yourself: even if no-one reads it, will you still write? If the answer is yes, then you owe it to yourself to do it. I’m writing because I want to write. Even if it’s for my eyes only. Because writing helps me process, organize my thoughts, and record them all down. Because I have a tendency to forget. Because it helps me heal. So why do you write? Because you don’t need to write just because you are good at it or only because you have something important to say; you can just write for yourself.
Progress not perfection
Gradually I began to fall in love with the process. I started to love searching for that “right” word that I couldn’t for the life of me remember in the moment. That despite how frustrating it may be to have words escape you, the excitement of finally finding that word that was at the tip of my tongue is so satisfying. It’s not about the destination but rather the journey there, and the destination is not static but ever-changing.
I hope this page will be filled with raw, unpolished, imperfect thoughts and words. Because striving for perfection is hindering and paralyzing, preventing us from chasing our passion, progressing, and the simple act of starting – and that’s always the hardest part. We live and we learn. And then the next day, we do it all over again.
One day an old man was walking along the beach in the early morning and noticed the tide had washed thousands of starfish up onto the shore. Ahead, he spotted a boy gathering up the starfish, then one by one tossing them back into the ocean. He approached the boy and asked why he spent so much energy doing what seemed to be a waste of time. The boy replied, “The starfish cannot live if they are left out in the sun.”
Then the old man gazed out as far as he could see and responded, “But there must be thousands of miles of beaches and countless starfish. You can’t possibly rescue all of them. What difference is throwing back a few going to make anyway?” The boy bent down picked up yet another starfish and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Then he turned, smiled, and said, “It made a difference to that one!”
Loren Eiseley
That was very touching.