Tuesday 27 August 2013

Gosh, it's been so long. So long, in fact, I'm expecting my laptop to auto-correct just like my phone. This is our new laptop. Our old one was partially melted (our son decided to check out YouTube whilst sitting right in front of our fireplace...when lit) and then dropped...by me.
The poorly laptop wasn't the only reason that I stopped writing. I'd just had enough. Enough of the whole "out there" thing. Facebook, Twitter, blogging, writing...it's all so exposing, and I'd just had enough of exposing myself, so to speak...
Who really cares what I think anyway? Why does my opinion need to be heard? Will it have any impact? Probably not, to be honest. But is that why I write? Do I want to change the world, or do I want to merely think out loud?
For years, I've been toying with the idea of writing a book. I have actually started two. One was being written with my husband. It was all about our journey. I used to be a single mum and when we met, he was a free and single bloke. Our journey of getting together, engaged, married and further sprogged-up has been as interesting as anyone else's journey.  We wondered if others in the same boat might benefit from learning through our mistakes and experiences, and if writing a book might be a good way to encourage both new dads and single mums. So, we gave it a go. We wrote about five chapters. Then we stopped. Dave then started writing a novel, and I started to write another book. This time, my book was an attempt to formulate my blogging into something tangible...parenting, creativity, school life, economy living, bla bla bla. It was flowing pretty well and the feedback was encouraging. But then it stopped.
I have a wonderful friend, who is one of my adopted big sisters. She lives in Singapore, and so we are far away from each other. Whenever she pops over to Old Blighty, we sit, chat, drink coffee and eventually get round to praying together. I had emailed the second book (half-complete) to her, after her having read the first book (also half-complete), and she came back to me with her thoughts..

"Who are you influencing?" she asked me. "Who are you influencing?" She urged me to return to the first book - our journey, our story. "Someone needs to hear your story, Sally," she said.

Her words have remained with me. As I drive around, "who are you influencing?" As I clean my house, "who are you influencing?" As I interact with my children, in times of conflict, play and grief, "who are you influencing?" As our old laptop crashed, and I lost the whole nine chapters of the second book, "who are you influencing?" As I returned to worship leading, after a five year break, "who are you influencing?" As I sit in front of this new laptop, blogging again, "who are you influencing?"

The truth is, when we expose ourselves, whether it be online, in public, on a stage, or in front of our children, we are influencing others. When we tell everyone our opinions on how we should conduct our lives, we are influencing others. When we have friends who value our opinions, and they listen/read what we say/write, we are influencing others. Writing a book could have no impact at all...or it could heavily influence someone. My funny little blog posts can hurt, wound, uplift or shape...just about anyone...and I have absolutely no control over how it all pans out.

The truth is, I am not a fan of responsibility. I don't really like being a grown-up. And although I tend to be a bossy boots, I don't enjoy the responsibility of leadership. Many times, I have stepped back from opportunities to lead, because it all feels like too big a responsibility. It all feels very scary. Because it actually is scary. Having been a teacher for a few years, and then having met my former students who are now adults, I have realised how much I have influenced others, and not always for the better. It is extremely easy to say or do the wrong thing. It is utterly impossible to control the way that my actions or words are received by others.

My words (and yours) can shape, hurt, destroy and irritate. That's why I struggle to write. I have read lots of blogs, books and Facebook posts. Most of us have. Some blogs are funny or moving, some books are original and inspiring, and some Facebook posts are challenging and genuinely fascinating. But most of it is not. I have read many books, but only a few have changed me. Occasionally, I read a blog post that brings me to tears, or makes me laugh, but have they changed me? Having said that, I love to read the posts of precious friends, especially if they are on a specific adventure or have an amazing story to tell - read EllieSpeaks (recommended to the left!! She is gorgeous and SO interesting!! What an amazing girl!! - there are others, but I'm not savvy enough to do the link-up thing!) Facebook posts either irritate me, make me momentarily giggle or merely fly straight passed my tired, numbed-to-the-word-vomit eyes and right over my head. And so...I guess what I'm saying is that I'd rather shut up. There are enough people writing out there! I'd rather reduce the noise slightly...and the potential collateral damage. Maybe I shouldn't have written this.