Who I Am

It's a tricky thing, having a blog.

It's not like I have a hard time talking.

Clearly.

But it has been brought to my attention that many of y'all are paying attention to all of this talk. Which is good, I suppose, because I naturally write to an audience. It's just been easier that way. To pretend people are listening.

And then to know that Someone is? That blows my mind when I allow God to let it.

I made this blog for Him.

That sounds super spiritual, doesn't it? I don't mean for it to. Journals just got boring. There wasn't a way to include pictures or quickly type out something snappy. When I journaled, I didn't feel like myself. I felt like some hyper-spiritualized version of myself. Like I wrote what I would want my great-granddaughter to remember me as instead of how I truly felt.

Thinking someone might read my thoughts one day pressured me into being something I'm not.

Knowing someone could very well read my thoughts currently requires me to be who I am.

No horns to toot here.

Because most of you know that I have ziltch experience on a horn.

My great granddaughter might not know that about me. So I might could have convinced her.

I like this better.

When I started blogging, no one knew. But even then I wrote to an audience. Because I have one.

Then, when I found out I had an audience, I started writing to them. I got called out on it-- that my feelings were my feelings and should be kept to myself or in a private journal. My parents warned me of all the creepy people out there and to be careful about what I write. They said if I was going to put my thoughts out there, I should be prepared for the response. Whatever it was.

So I closed down shop. Outta here. I've never been one to hurt feelings and take names. So when a feeling got hurt, I decided it wasn't worth all of this. I learned then the huge lesson that if I'm going to say something here I sure better be living it out there. Because to get called on the discrepancy is humiliating.

And humbling beyond belief.

I soon decided that while the privacy thing should be a concern of mine and while there are some things I should keep to myself, this is a creative outlet I just don't want to give up. And what I believe, Who I believe? I can't really give that up either. Don't want to.

It was true that I had lost sight of the goal in setting this place up-- giving it back to God.

A place to analyze. To laugh at life and cry at life. To be. And to be certain that He can handle it. He can and does capture me. By all of this I have around me, in spite of all of this.

Consequently, I do have a journal.

And I no longer talk to my non-existent great granddaughter in it ;) (read: I never actually addressed a great granddaughter)

So there's that.

But then there is this.

And it's a tricky thing, having a blog (I said that already, I know).

Because sometimes it feels selfish. Why should you care what I have to say? Why should I take the time to sit and write about me?

Then again, it's one of the greatest avenues God has ever taken to show me that it's just simply not about me. Not this life, not these experiences, not this blog.

I'm glad you're here reading, whoever you are.

Let me introduce myself formally (not so much).

My name is Sadie.

I am no longer almost 20 as my sidebar reads. I'm just too lazy to change it.

I am a person more inclined to laziness than so much productivity. That's not so good.

I am a person more flexible than so much bent on details. The world needs a mix of the two. But for me, the flexibility has worked out well.

I am a sensitive person. I don't like to hurt feelings, I don't like to feel like I've hurt a feeling.

I somehow ended up 1000 miles from home at a school I never knew existed until less than a year before I packed up my life and moved.

I have never been in a serious relationship. That is a lie. I take them all pretty seriously. But the boyfriend thing hasn't quite presented itself.

I am somewhat unique, I suppose, because the former doesn't much bother me.

I have had two jobs in my life. Babysitting and Tropical Smoothie. Both of which I love.

I have a family that I adore.

I have far better friends than I could have imagined for myself.

I live in an apartment bigger than what half of the world's population will ever know. And still I often laugh it off as college housing, dreaming for the day I have bigger and better this and that.

I know am incredibly privileged to even know to dream of bigger and better.

I ask God regularly to take that privilege and work with it. I know the privilege is fleeting. And I often feel burdened by and guilty for it.

I am becoming more and more convinced that God's big is much bigger than my big and that his good is much better than my good. It's not always a pretty process, because I am not a delicate crier. I get all blotchy and red.

I like a sharpie pen.

I have an intense amount of American flags in my repertoire.

I love dusk.

I have this blog.

But it is not all about me.

And so, if you can learn anything from little me, I'm sure I could maybe (or, you know, a lot) benefit from knowing you.

It's not about me wanting to build up some comments. I have my audience. He has been here since the beginning of this blog and He'll be around way after (even circa when my granddaughter reads this, if that happens).

I just genuinely want to know who you are. Because you spend way too much time getting to know me. And I hardly even know you. That doesn't seem quite right.

On this post, if you are reading, would you do a few "I ..."s? Even if it's just your name.

I would love it.

A good bit of my introduction began with "I am..." Perhaps yours will, too. But here is why I am here.

Not because I am anything, but because He is.

Jesus introduced himself as the "I am."

He was the much anticipated I am.

Not the I am (dot)(dot)(dot).

The I Am. Period.

He just doesn't need adjectives. Or a ridiculous amount of words like I end up using.

Pick a word. He knows it.

There are some terrible words out there.

I am... abused.

I am... scarred.

I am... scared.

I am... depressed.

I am... hurt.

I am... struggling.

He knows it. And He has conquered it. He is. Period.

Whatever you are, whatever I am.

He is.

There is no shame there. There is no fear.

Wouldn't that be good to know? No shame or fear?

Yeah, it would be good. For me, that would be awesome. And I don't know it in full yet.

But He does.

So it's just not about who I am.

And in the end, it's not about who you are. Still, I sure would like to know who you are. Meet you in the comments?

K, great.