It’s Day 4 of the writing challenge and I am officially out of words. It is rare that I have nothing to say. Very rare. So while I entered this challenge wondering what I would have to say after, say, three weeks, I never expected to be out of words by Day 4.
What I am not out of, however, is a head full of gremlins. I have little voices that say things like:
We told you this would never work.
You are out of words because you are really a writer.
You are a children’s ministry director. You will never be a writer.
You aren’t even a real children’s ministry director. You went to cosmetology school.
And you weren’t a good cosmetologist.
You really have no talent.
Or anything special to think of or mention.
You are washed up.
Eat some Fritos and go to bed.
Geeze. My gremlins are harsh.
So I find myself sitting here, staring at my screen with the flashing cursor, saying things like,”Eff the Gremlins!” as I try to muster up something to say.
Yet I have nothing.
So I lament.
And it’s in the lament that I realize just typing these words makes me stronger. It makes me better.
Gremlins don’t win when I blow them off and type anyway.
This must be what punching fear in the face looks like. I’ve heard Jon Acuff talk about it for years. Now I know.
So while I have typed nothing here that will shake anyone’s world or change a single person’s life, I have learned a valuable lesson.
I am better than my gremlins. They don’t get to win. I can face my doubts head on and not be knocked down.
Eff the gremlins.