dangling feet

it was the fall of my junior year in college.  i remember sitting on her brown leather couch, my legs shaking with nerves, my voice cracking with pain, and the tears stinging my face.  there was a giant economy sized store brand box of kleenex sitting to my right.  i'm convinced they make a special extra large size for counselor's offices.  because this one was.

i started to tell my story... going back to the beginning of all the bitter hurt i had been holding onto since i was five.  i explained how i felt undeserving of all this pain i lived through, felt jipped, and wanted some sort of victory prize for enduring.  after i was done letting the last fifteen years of my life out, i breathed heavy with relief.  i felt lighter, like i unloaded the 150 pound suitcase i had been lugging beside me.  once i let go of the hurt, there was more room for healing.

my counselor's first words to me were not as revolutionary as i had hoped.  or maybe they were since they've stuck neatly in the back of my mind for the last five plus years.  her words of "you're going to write a book one day to tell your story" sort of dumbfounded me.  you mean, all that i had held in would one day line the pages of a book for anyone to read?  it felt somewhat heartless.  just because i spilled my guts on a personal level did not mean i intended to do it for any form of audience.  

and then i started a blog; i am discovering that i do indeed enjoy putting words together.  i adore the process of choosing the right way to say things to best portray what's in my mind.  maybe my counselor was on to something. in the last year, i have really wondered what it would be like to write well and it has taken the shape of a dream.  whether it be my own story or stories that i have imagined, i do not yet know.  but what i do know is that i have to practice.

i received this book from the very accomplished, Mary DeMuth. i sort of thought that it may be a sign.  i mean, to get a book like this must mean something, right?   so far, from reading this book, i have learned that when it comes to writing i do one thing right and everything else wrong.  i will now flee from -ly adverbs, all cliches, and the noun-verb-noun-verb sentence structure.  darn it.  i've already broken a rule in this post about writing which cannot be a great sign.  in Mrs. DeMuth's eyes, the two spaces after periods rule is way outdated.  i had no idea how hard it would be to break a double space bar habit. and after a sentence like that i made myself only hit it once.  the one thing i do right?  write a blog.  that has to be worth at least twenty points and kind of makes up for the two spaces.

even though our stories or dreams or desires may seem small and far-off, maybe they're really not.  instead of letting go of the child-like faith in believing that anything is possible, what if we cling to it?  could it be that if we work hard with diligence, do our best, and be obedient to what God has laid on our hearts we might really live out our dreams?  i hope so.  thanks to emily with her 31 days, i have been encouraged to reach out, move beyond the curtain, and believe that my voice is worth sharing.  thanks also to amy, for reminding me that it's okay to pray big.  : )  i am about to live like i am four feet tall, sit with my feet dangling off a chair, and feel endless possibilities like i did when i was little.  

-carissa 


"and Jesus said to him, 'if you can!' All things are possible for one who believes." -Mark 9:23

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