There is something freeing, although terrifying, about sliding into the passenger seat by your worst fear and then staying buckled in to witness how it all plays out. And, there is something transforming, although uncomfortable, about choosing to enter in to another’s pain – not to fix, not to preach – but to simply identify with it out of compassion.
…So the girl went and called the child’s mother. And Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Take this child away and nurse him for me, and I will give you your wages.’ So the woman took the child and nursed him. Exodus 2:8-9
Recently, I had a Skype meeting about my writing with Jonathan Merritt. He’s a teacher at the Writer’s Bootcamp Conference I attended last spring. Jonathan nailed me from the beginning, saying my writing was too vague; I needed to “make every word tell” and make my point more clear. And so, in a few direct statements, he nonchalantly blew my cover, and the simple truth of it rattled me. Did he not know how dangerous it feels to say, much less write, my opinions and thoughts in a public space? Did he not understand that being vague and flowery and poetic is, in fact, my buffer and my shield? [Read more…]