C'mon Up!

I've always had a vivid imagination. Picture if you will, bursts of colors exploding one from another inside the mind of a quiet, non-explosive, shy, and anxious skinny girl. Why bother with the weight description? Because, it mattered. Way. Too. Much. But, that's for a later time. I remember having all sorts of thoughts but rarely expressing them. So, I read. And, I read. And, I read. On vacations my family would be out at a restaurant and what would I be doing at the table? Reading. My first chapter book was about the life of Hans Christian Anderson, for goodness sake! What other 6 year old was interested in old Hans? His dad was a shoemaker, by the way. In case you were interested. By the time I was 11, I was reading thick adult novels. It was around that time that I also grew an interest in writing. In 7th grade I entered a few poems in the Language Arts Festival. One was about the ocean looking like glass and the other was about jealousy. Both ahead of my time. Both very good. Both only got honorable mention. I distinctly remember being deflated. That night as I was getting ready for bed I was crying. My mom saw and asked me what was wrong. I told her about the poems and she asked to read them. She told me they were very good and should've won. I remember this like it was yesterday. It felt like someone understood me. Someone saw me. And, not just "someone." It was my mom.

I didn't talk a whole lot in class most of my growing up years. I hid this anxiety. I pushed it away as best as I could and I did okay. From the outside, nobody knew. But, on the inside, despite the spectrum of colorful ideas and thoughts, I was wracked with fear and self-doubt. (In fact, just thinking about this has put that weight into the pit of my stomach as I type). From college, to my internship, to volunteer work and into different jobs, I was often called on to write. But, it wasn't until about two years ago, during a painful time for me, that the Holy Spirit simultaneously unleashed a big old heart of cascading love for God, AND inspiration (constant inspiration) to write. Both came over me with intensity and in waves. And, the water is still flowing today.

This is my first blog. It was time. I called on my neighbor and friend, Nabeela, to come help me get it set up. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not good with computers, numbers (though I can stretch $10 like no other), and I don't like gorgonzola or blue cheese. Otherwise, I'm pretty easy (I think). So, as I sat here feeling a little apprehensive and subconsciously rubbing my fingers together, I had a vision. The vision was of Jesus standing on a stage at a podium. I'm five years old, in kindergarten, wearing a lavender and white dress, with long skinny french fry legs, and big feet. The only thing big on me, other than my feet, were my brown eyes. (Why oh why does this make me tear up now?) Jesus was holding a microphone and He looked down on me sitting in the front row and asked me to "C'mon Up" hence, the title of my first blog. I walked up the stairs to the stage and looked at Him as He handed me the microphone. As I took it from Him, He looked me in the eyes and said, "Here is your chance, Dee. Go, and speak." Awe man, only Jesus. 

So, now I look over the big crowd with affection in my heart and I see all of your faces. And, I feel the warmth and tenderness of my Father above me, the Holy Spirit inside of me moving my fingers to create words I didn't even know I was going to say, and Jesus, MY JESUS, next to me with His approval of ME. Not what I can do. Not how I look. Not what I have or don't have. Just ME, from creation in the womb to 48 year old ME at the kitchen table. My forever and ever Love. That's Him. And, I'm going to Speak. Share. Inspire. Encourage. Get real. Be myself. And Jesus - He is going to take those bursts of exploding color and help me bring them to the page. I am going to "C'mon Up!" 

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