ONE OF THE COOL THINGS that also happened Thursday is three of us who enjoy writing came out of the closet.
We all even hesitate to even agree when someone says, “Oh, I didn't know you were a writer.”
Nothing scares me MORE than if someone says that, I noticed, much like these other three ladies, I am quick to disagree and interject,
“No, I'm NOT a writer... I just LIKE to write...”
I was intrigued when one of the ladies started sharing she has been writing again.“What do you write?” I asked her.
“Well,” she said rather reluctantly, and very much not like her, this woman in her mid fifties, now entering a new stage of life, having nearly all the kids out of the house, a successful businesswoman and someone I've always viewed in previous classes with her, as a very strong woman, she finally eeked it out, rather sheepishly,
“I'm writing a book on prayer.”
I felt like I could literally see it on her face, as if she was saying to herself, I wish I had never said anything!
But we kept asking her questions, drawing her out further and she began to grow more comfortable again and explained more of the process to us. And I was like, that's awesome I love to write too.
Then another girl piped up on how she's been blogging about each chapter with five of her best friends from college, they have a private blog just for them all to communicate. Then the lady writing the book, said, *”Janelle, you're a writer too...” to another lady.
Just hearing the lady writing the book, share about her journey and fight with herself to write again stirred something deep within me that has not been able to die.
She said some things that resonate so deeply within, I felt like she had somehow gotten a sneak peek at everything I've been writing about in my written journal lately.
But it inspired me and was another whisper from God pushing my heart forward.
So, three of us “writers,” who are still deathly afraid of that word, we are much more comfortable saying we just ENJOY writing, came out of the closet yesterday.
We talked afterward about how hesitant we all are to even call ourselves “writers.”
“Well I think it's because when you say that,” *Karen, the lady writing the book said, “Everyone's expectations shoot through the roof and then you never want them to see anything you've written.”
EXACTLY I told her. And felt so known and understood, less weird. Those words were spoken with the strength of a woman who has fought this battle for more than twice as long as I've been alive.
But the Lord has been speaking to me about several things related to writing, and Thursday was more fire being ignited within me.
Then it hit me.
Why do I get self-conscious sometimes about my writing. Why do I compare myself to others? Or secretly wish I could write shorter blog posts or emails, why can't I be like everyone else?
But, then it hit me again,
We are all UNIQUE.
There is no one else LIKE me. There is no one else LIKE you. Whose standard am I trying to meet that says there is something even WRONG with that?
I began to gain steam as I felt my perspective shifting...
Why do I sometimes think what I have to say is stupid or dumb or no one cares.
Or why do I fear sending emails sometimes because I'm worried what people will think of me?
Or allow shame to hold me back. That I'm different. That there's something wrong with me. That no one else writes that long of emails, what is WRONG with you???
::
Yet something hit me last Saturday when I was out running errands.
I realized why not being able to drive has been so hard on me the last few weeks.
For whatever reason, the minute I step into the car, it's like this scrolling marquee goes off in my head, ideas and thoughts and this onslaught of words and things I'm pondering start hitting me.
I learned a few years ago that the worst thing to not have in my car is a pen.
I always get random ideas in the car. And jot things down on random pieces of paper I can squander in my purse at stoplights.
Usually it's maybe the back of a few receipts or note cards with verses on the other side.
But this time, I had written on the back of nearly 30 note cards. I kid you not. Of 8-10 different things I was planning to blog about.
What is WRONG with me?! I thought. As literally every stoplight or when I'd get to a parking lot, I'd be jotting down the words as fast as I could write to keep up with my mind, and sit there wondering why I had just written five blog entries in the last 30 minutes of driving.
Many that never make it to getting posted because, for some odd reason, all my emotional energy is tanked by the time I get home lol.
But, as I was sitting there thinking, WHY in the world do I DO this?
It hit me.
What if you're asking the wrong question... What if there is NOT something wrong with me, what if this is the way I've been MADE?
Instead of something WRONG, what is this is how I AM?
What if this is who God created when He made Mazvita.
Instead of trying to figure out why I'm so weird, maybe this how it was supposed to be, as my mind raced to the box of chapter books I wrote in third grade, a box that has been unearthed by my mother to give Ben more embarrassing things from my childhood now that he's seen all the baby photos... you know, the stories you're supposed to write in class in second and third grade.
Well, I was writing stories with 16-20 chapters, when I guess the norm was 3-4. Shame was internalized then, at such an early age, why don't I write like everyone else. But it is interesting to go back and see how this has begged for another look.
My mom began looking for the books and told me one day recently. “Your imagination and insight in these books... I can't believe you wrote these when you were so little...”
(Now, trust me, they are not masterpieces, I only share this because it makes the rest of this make a little more sense.)
But as I started thumbing through them, it was like re-entering the mind of little eight-year-old Mazvita.
I remembered drawing some of the illustrations. Story lines were coming back to me.
It was then, in the last few weeks reading some of those stories, I realized writing has been with me for a while. Something to help me make sense and respond to life, even when I was a little girl.
::
It hit me again, when I heard these words...
“I made you to write.”
There was no mistaking the words, even though I even asked God to repeat Himself.
What did you say?
“I made you to write.”
Now, even just typing that I want to erase it. It sounds so vain and conceited. Full of myself.
But let me explain. Not like I'm going to be some big author or anything like that or that I think I could even say I write well... it had nothing to do with any of that or any opinions of myself or how others may think or feel about my writing.
I heard the Lord ask me again, “What if this is how I MADE you?”
Huh? I kept asking.
I mean, one of my wildest dreams would be to author a book some day, but I knew that wasn't what He was talking about.
I heard it again,“What if this is how I MADE you?”
Then it hit me. Again. (As I realize I have written that “it hit me” now nearly five times lol)
I WAS REMINDED OF THIS... not in my original revelations, but just in the last couple days as I've been putting all of this on paper, I was reminded of one of my favorite stories and one of my favorite tellings of it, of a runner in Chariots of Fire,
“The film [Chariots of Fire] won the Oscar in 1981 as the best movie of the year.
It dramatized the story of two British runners, Eric Liddell and Harold Abrahams, who captured gold medals in the 1924 Olympics. Heavy underdogs, the pair triumphed through a remarkable display of character, discipline, and courage.
One scene moved me in a profound way:
Liddell, an uncompromising Scottish Congregationalist, has been called by God to serve as a missionary in China at the conclusion of the games.
However, his deeply religious sister fears that if her brother wins the gold, he will be so enamored of the fame and glory of an Olympic victory that he will opt out of his missionary vocation.
On the eve of the race she pleads fervently with him not to run.
He looks at her with great affection and says,
“But God made me fast, and when I run I feel his pleasure.”
- Brennan Manning, in Ruthless Trust
When I write... I feel His pleasure.
More than anything, it can be seen or unseen by people, most of the time, I am writing just for me. For my heart. And soul. But I write because when I do, I sense His pleasure.
So then, we come back to, maybe instead of something being WRONG with me, and that I have a passenger seat full or half written writings on the backs of grocery receipts or note cards.... that He MADE me this way. He gives me words and allows this connection with Him, from His heart to mine, as He speaks and I write, I sense, I feel His pleasure, His delight in me.
I cannot describe it, but Beth Moore comes the closest I've found to explaining it. She says, she doesn't even know what all is in there or going to come out when she sits down to write.
“I write by faith,” she says in the intro of her latest book.
I had never heard it put that way before but instantly knew what she meant.
It is a way I experience God.
And MAYBE, just maybe, this is how He made me. This is a way He has allowed me to communicate and experience Him. To feel connected, intimate and close.
What if He made me this way for a reason?
The shame is gone, and that part of myself I try to shoo away so often has been called out of hiding, no longer flogged, but embraced. For it is simply a part of me.
And a way that I am able to be a part of Him.
Plain and simple.
So less about WHAT am I going to write or AM I a writer or will I ever BE a writer, He calls me one now simply on the basis of the fact that I write because when I write, I sense His pleasure. I sense His delight.
I experience Him in ways I cannot explain.
It is like this sacred dance in putting together ideas and what is churning around in my head and my heart,
It is one of the ways my soul speaks. One of the ways God speaks to me. One of the ways my soul speaks to Him
One of the ways I am able to engage in relationship with Him, as through the process of writer, He takes me on journeys with Him I never realized were so valuable.
But it is not something to be ashamed of, yet embraced. I may never write a book. I may never write anything anyone feels is worth reading. I may never write things that make sense or touch others, or even be able to form anything of coherence... yet He calls me to write because this is a part of who He made me to be. It doesn't matter what the end result is. All that matters is that I write.
Part of how His deep calls to my deep. Part of how His heart ravishes mine. Part of how I am made alive again, renewed. Made new.
Part of how my soul feels most at rest and at home in His.
Where I feel free.
Where I feel most alive.
::
Yes, home is not where we first lived, home is where we feel most alive.
Oh man, if there are words I wish I could say to every woman in my life, and even women I don't know it would be...
You are BEAUTIFUL. No, really. You are.
You matter. Your HEART matters. Your LIFE matters. You are unique.
There is no one else LIKE you.
You are ENOUGH.
You are altogether lovely. You are a DAUGHTER of the KING.
You are precious, ransomed, redeemed.
You are DELIGHTED in. Seen. Known. Pursued.
CHOSEN. Graced and made beautiful. Blessed.
Or as Bruno Mars says, (I love this man and his message to women)
“Girl, you're amazing... JUST the way you ARE...”
Or as Jonny Diaz attests to along the same lines,
"There could never be a more beautiful YOU."
::
Rob Bell puts it this way, plain and simple as he captures the heart of the gospel with these words:
“You are worth dying for.”
For all the beautiful women out there, the ones I am blessed to know and all the others I do not,
Yes, you are beautiful.
There could never be a more beautiful you.
Yes, girl you're amazing... just the way you are.
As Beth Moore adds,
“We are all living miracles.”
Just thinking of all the roads in our lives that have brought us to this place, we ARE miracles... living, walking reflections of our King and His beauty, of our King and His strength... His glory... His heart... His life... and the power of His redemption.
The Book of Isaiah tells us we are called, “mighty oaks of righteousness...
A planting of the Lord for the DISPLAY of His splendor.”
So yes, you are beautiful. Yet your beauty goes far beyond that. It reaches far into the depths of a heart dead set to rescue you. Save you, save US from ourselves. It reaches into the depths of the heart of a man that would stop at nothing just to win us back, not let anything stand in the way just to have our hearts' affection.
Okay, so this is one of several reasons why I love Woodcrest... And their love and appreciation of the arts...
And my Woodcrest women... Oh, and not to mention, I am an unashamed, out of the closet, Glee fan...
Put all of this together and there really couldn't have been a better break in my day, when I stumbled upon this on facebook while looking up a friend's birthday. (Woodcrest Chapel is a community church here in town that partners with our campus church, The Rock, in a number of ways.)
Not only has their Thursday women's ministry (called Take T.W.O, which stands for Thursday Women's Outreach) featured several “Glee Moments,” this semester, (when those within the Take T.W.O. creative arts team kicked off the morning with little skits and breaking out into song and dance when you least expect it during the large group meeting where we all gather to hear an opening speaker before going to our separate small groups), but Glee took center stage at Woodcrest again.
But this time, not in front of 200 women on a Thursday morning, this time, Glee went prime time, featured in a weekend service a few weeks ago.
I just caught a glimpse of Niki Harris' profile pic and it immediately grabbed my attention and asked myself, "Hmm, was she in a show recently or maybe this was something for Halloween? ..."
After a bit of successful facebook stalking, all my questions and curiosities were satisfied.
No, this wasn't just a cool costume or a show, this photo captures her debut in Glee.
Well, okay, in GleeCrest, a video featured in a weekend service called Dreams.
(More glorious photos below.)
Well, there's always a story. It seems in all my attempts to just post a song or video without any explanation, something within me never lets me get away with it. There is always a story. Context, they say, is usually helpful.
::
So, someone made the mistake of introducing me to Susannah Welch a couple years ago and also mentioning to her that I was also a dancer.
I don't even remember who else was at our table that first time, all I remember is the rest of the dinner, this person I didn't know who I had randomly sat next to, was truly a kindred spirit indeed, as we talked there for quite a bit. Hardly even noticing everyone else had left the dining hall.
It was my first overnight experience with Woodcrest women. I had been involved with some of their women's ministries since that fall, but when I was invited to a private retreat for women, called “Created Female,” for women seeking their unique place in God's Kingdom, while the invite in the mail and all the correspondence thereafter seemed all too good to be true, something wouldn't let me go... as much as my doubts and fears matched my desires to go, deep within I knew I should go anyway.
I found out there were 25 of us women asked to go. It was led by a team of five women, two of which being some of my most beloved role models and women who have been a huge part of my life and who had taken me under their wing as a woman in ministry. Part of the retreat was going to be directed by author and speaker Ruth Haley Barton, one of many women leaders in ministry, along with Nancy Beach and Nancy Ortberg of Willow Creek, that we would meet in our next retreat at Willow the following fall.
I didn't really know why I was asked to go.
But God had plans for me that weekend. Looking back, that weekend still stands as a defining moment and the start of a journey of discovering more of myself, more of the woman God created me to be and who He desires me to become, and more of Him.
It was an awakening of sorts.
I discovered I wasn't alone.
I was in a room full of women who have fought the fires of how lonely it can be sometimes to be in ministry as a woman. Women who have fought and were fighting the same battles I was, in a world of ministry dominated by men, but this was a time of calling forth, of saying, we are valuable too. Not only that. But needed.
It was calling us from the sidelines.
But, I was nervous to go. I knew only one other person going apart from the leaders, but otherwise, when I walked into the room, I remember feeling sick to my stomach. Seeing a bunch of faces of women so confident, so beautiful, so "hip" and "trendy," that I felt intimidated just being around them.
I don't belong here, I remember myself thinking and kicking myself for the first 30 minutes as I tried to make awkward small talk with a few vaguely familiar faces.
The purpose of the retreat was to provide a space for young women like myself just starting out in ministry or pursuing various dreams, to be strengthened and encouraged on our journeys and to see that what we were fighting for was worth it. And most importantly, that we were not alone.
::
So many things to tell about that time, but alas, I digress. Back to Susannah.
So, I'm at this retreat and I feel self-conscious all of a sudden and wonder why I'm there with so many women I've seen around Woodcrest, the young, hip and trendy moms that come all decked out at 9:15 in the morning, somehow looking ridiculously cute after getting a 5 and 7 year old dressed, fed, and off to school, chased around their three year old, and managed to make it there on time, check their toddler off at childcare, get their coffee, visit with friends and find their seat in the auditorium, while I struggled to roll out of bed those mornings and was lucky to leave the house with socks that matched.
That semester was the beginning of my appreciation and adoration for moms. Moms are heroes, they truly do it all and are LIVING sacrifices, daily laying their lives down for their families.
And not to mention, I felt incredibly young. There were only two other girls under 25 as I was at the time, but even they seemed to blend in with the rest of the mostly late 20s, 30s crowd, seamlessly.
I didn't feel good enough. I felt like a baby around them. Not really a woman. At that point, I had only been in community with women my age and older for about a year, since I started support raising that previous May.
I felt the reality every time I stepped into a women's group, as I was a part of several in that time period, that working in a campus church, you really are like a missionary in a foreign country, as Jessica Ellingsworth pointing out to me one time.
I told her that was so true, it was like stepping into a different world, and you don't realize how different that world is until you step out of it. But by that time, I had been so immersed in college culture and being around 18-22 year olds, that that first year, it was like I was in kindergarten, learning social skills with adults for the first time.
I mean, of course I had girlfriends that were my age, and had older women in my life at that point too, so it wasn't like I never talked or hung out with people my age, but to be fully immersed then in a world where everyone was my age or mostly older, was definitely like a fish out of water experience. To go from being the "old" one to the baby was a rough transition.
And I tried so hard to measure up.
And I had no idea what two nights away some five hours away in Kansas would be like. But I took the risk.
It wasn't long into the retreat where I could honestly say, man am I glad I did. God didn't waste anytime in reassuring me why He had brought me to that place. There were experiences and conversations and times with others and with God, that I will never forget.
But alas, I digress again! So, I was trying to act all serious and mature. Trying to fit in, but act confident as they all were. But inside was secretly insecure.
So, after a powerful night of the leaders explaining why each of us had been invited and then each of us going around and saying why we were there, after many tears and nods and shaking our heads in agreement as we each found something in one another we could connect and relate with, we were set free for the night and asked to return the next morning, 8 am.
This is where the anxiety REALLY kicked in.
Great, now everyone is grouping off into their groups of friends, they're all going to hang out somewhere, God rescue me PLEASE from this social suicide.
So I wandered out in the lobby area of our retreat center, where several ladies were hanging out on the couches.
Somehow, some way, I don't even know all of HOW, Susannah and I started talking.
Then, somehow, someway, as we were tossing around what some people were doing, oh, there's a few people who are going to so and so's room to watch a movie, some people are going to bed, some people are out there playing cards... we decided you know, none of that sounds exciting.
Let's do a musical.
I seriously do not remember how we got there, but within minutes we had cast 12 women for our production and the choreography began.
I saw women of all ages, some of our highly revered leaders, moms and working women in their 40s and 50s, come out into the room for their “audition” in their pajama pants, (which consisted of them merely daring to walk into the room where practice was underway) I saw the young hip and trendy women in their 20s and 30s, reveal they used to be dancers or cheerleaders, they were all over this.
It was hysterical. I remember we were all laughing so hard our sides hurt.
Susannah and I realized we truly were kindred spirits and choreographed our masterpiece and put on a show for the remaining women in an hour.
Here I was feeling like I wasn't going to fit in. Or I had to act like something I was not.
Or as I found myself thinking that night as we went to bed after our big show, how a few hours ago, I thought there was no way would those women ever do something like that. OMG, it was SUCH a hoot.
It was such the perfect thing God knew I needed cause I was able to build relationships with these women in an area where I was totally in my element. When it comes to dance, any insecurities, shyness goes out of the window for me, and it was great to just feel free. See more of their personalities come out and allow them to see more of who I really am.
I love how God can use ANYTHING in a group of women to get all the barriers and walls we as women can so easily put up when we're around other women, to come tumbling down. By the end of the night, we became simply women. Just women. Human. Like one another. All social, racial, socio-economic barriers, job/ministry status and ego, and the comparing and measuring up had flown out the window. It was great. Bonds that were created that night still remain strong today.
::
Actually, that night as well as dying of laughter every time I would see grown women get on stage at our women's ministry Thursday mornings shakin' it with all they've got to some parody making fun of a topic from a previous week or upcoming one, or one that was just plain goofy... were the inspiration for what we'd hit our girls with our first women's retreat a couple years ago.
Imagine the faces of my women's retreat team of Cassie, Peggy, Jessica, and Aimee, as I told them I wanted us to start off Saturday morning, before the first speaker, before even the first service, but right after breakfast with a choreographed lip sync.
All five faces stared back at me with a look, like, do you KNOW I can't dance?! Except for Aimee Swift, former cheerleader, who landed the role of Beyonce as we kicked off the morning in full military grab and camou, to Destiny's Child's, "Survivor."
Everyone finally got on board as I promised I'd make the dance super easy and it was just more going to be funny and get all the girls, for SURE woken up and would set the tone.
So needless to say, just as the girls were finishing up their breakfast and waiting the start of the next session, when we bust in the back of the Valley View fellowship hall, music blaring and the girls looking around what's going on, that this was definitely the LAST thing they expected, as we worked our way up to the stage, not before dancing and singing and serenading several girls as we weaved through the tables.
And as soon as they saw five of their staff women (we are old women to them, ANCIENT), so it had a similar effect of me seeing all these grown women on stage without a care in the world, the girls were all rolling and could not believe their eyes. The comic relief after an intense opening night with one of my mentors speaking and another couple of intense talks from more Woodcrest women coming up, was a good break.
PLUS, we had to show these girls, we may be “old,” but we still know how to have fun, we still got it.
So do the Woodcrest ladies.
::
So as you can imagine, (after that LONG back story)... how super excited I was and how much joy it brought to my heart when I caught a glimpse of Niki's profile pic and immediately knew they had been up to something. First I saw the pictures and felt like I was there. Then, minutes later, I had found a video. Even better.
It had Susannah written ALL over it, OH, brought so much joy to my heart! And their video team, never ceases to amaze me. They really did an AWESOME job with this project.
Susannah is the Creative Arts Director at Woodcrest, as well as the Dance Ministry leader. We found we had a lot in common, as during that time I was still leading our programming team and was able to shadow and sit in on several of their programming meetings to see how larger churches did it.
She is a riot. Sadly, I've had to decline the last few times she's asked me to dance with them, but I know there will be a day where I'll be able to dance again. The dancer in me hasn't died. An even though I can't dance write now, somehow I've found ways to still choreograph random dances when I'm driving around or feeling especially inspired by a certain song and mark the dance in my head since my body can't do all the movements.
And I have to say, as epic as our Xanadu performance and ode to Olivia Newton John was that fateful night at the retreat, a dream come true for Susannah as she has always dreamed of starring in Xanadu (I had never even heard about it till that night, but it doesn't take long to catch the spirit of all that is Xanadu)...
She has outdone herself this time. And I couldn't be more proud.
And it is so hilarious watching it because this is like her dream coming true. We talked about how both of us wished some days life was like a musical, you know, where you can just break out into song and dance at any moment.
But who needs dreams when we've got Glee? It's like they stole our idea.
And what kills me the most is seeing Susannah and this guy named Kent, the kid who is rumored to be sleeping with the director, in this. (Kent, also part of the creative arts team and one of several vocalists at their church, is her husband in real life.)
This is like them in everyday, REAL life, they are a hoot to be around. And it's way fun seeing them sing together. I LOVE IT!
More of GleeCrest:
Meet the stellar cast- The dudes: (from left to right) Bradley, Kent, Alan, Jeff. The gals: (from left to right) Susannah, Mindy, Niki, Meredith
This photo brings me so much joy. SO fun! And the most amazing part of it all is they are all legitimately having fun and being totally themselves. I felt like I was there sneaking around and watching them just looking at the photos!
Another one that brings a smile to my face, Susannah and Kent Welch, living out their ultimate dream :)
A-maz-ing shot! Check out those dream girls!
Yes, this is KMIZ's meteorologist, Jeff Huffman, who knew he had this hidden talent up his sleeve!?!
LOVE it!
And it wouldn't be complete without their photo they've dubbed as their yearbook pic. Yessss.
.:: songs rich with promise, treasures hidden in the darkness and more precious streams in the desert; treasures that have been like water to my soul... here are my songs of deliverance, my songs of peace ::.
They cried to the Lord in their trouble and he delivered them from their distress.
[psalm 107:6]
The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I lack... I have everything I need. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul.
:: psalm 23:1-3
Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth, you will again bring me up.
You will increase my honor and comfort me once more.
[psalm 71:20-21]
I called out to the Lord and he answered me. He has heard my prayers.
:: psalm 3:4
Look to the Lord and his strength, seek his face always.
[psalm 105:4]
The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.
:: psalm 147:11
I waited patiently for the Lord, he turned to me and heard my cry...
Blessed are those who make the Lord their trust.
[psalm 40:14]
How priceless is your unfailing love, For with you is the fountain of life; for in your light we see light.
:: psalm 36:7-9
In your unfailing love, you will lead the people you have redeemed, in your strength, you will guide them.
[exodus 15:13]
He sent out his word and healed them.
:: psalm 107:20
He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness, and broke away their chains.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love.
[psalm 107:14-15]
Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you.
ONE OF THE COOL THINGS that also happened Thursday is three of us who enjoy writing came out of the closet. 
