You know those moments where you’re sitting on a beach in Greece, pondering your purpose in life, and you’re struck with a feeling so strong it almost rocks you off your lounge chair?
Well, let me tell you about one of those moments.
I was lathered in tanning lotion, sitting, watching the waves roll towards my feet before teasingly reverting back into the deep blue mass. Back and forth, back and forth. A game of tag that I opted not to play. I was breathing slowly for a change and reveling in the rare weightlessness of my heart. For the first time in a long time, my mind was quiet. Pure. Calm. Open to suggestions.
I was overwhelmed with contentment.
It’s like the swish of a windshield wiper blade in the last second of a hard rain. That magical moment when you go from not being able to see at all to being able to see everything. And just like that, blurry becomes clear. Loud becomes quiet. It’s in those moments of clarity that we are able to listen. Really listen. To God. To His words. To our own voice. To our own heart.
It was there, in a simple and serene moment of clarity on the beach, that I realized I needed to be pushed. Challenged. Out of my comfort zone and into the unknown.
….I love writing here.
I’ll say it again. I LOVE writing here. This is my space to create and string words together beautifully and imperfectly. This space brings me joy and hopefully occasionally brings joy to others. Maybe sometimes it doesn’t, but that is always the intention. Yet the problem with this space is that nobody pushes me to be better. The only person pushing me is me, and on most days, that is not enough. I know I can be better than the words that appear here.
I need to be pushed. I want to be pushed.
Which is what I told God, on the beach in Greece. I prayed for opportunities. For good people and good things to come into my life and allow me to utilize the gifts He has given me.
And then I just started writing something in my head. An article. A mini essay of sorts, about Greece and the pre-baby bucket list. I e-mailed my friends in PR and asked if they thought maybe a magazine would publish it, and they said yes. And then I got (prematurely) really, really excited. I googled things and found editors’ addresses and learned about query letters and went to sleep writing more words in my head.
And then I stumbled across this. And decided to enter. Not to win, but to be pushed.
And then, I was asked to write for this. Five minutes later I was so full of ideas, there weren’t enough places to put them.
That being said, no, I do not believe in coincidences. I believe in God. I believe in writing.
I believe He wants me to write. Even if that means pitching an article that nobody wants to publish, or coming in last place in the Real Simple essay contest. Because even if that happens, and let’s face it….it most likely will….at least I will know that I tried my hardest. That I pushed myself as far as I could go, as raw as I could be, fearlessly exposed in a world of masks.
No, I don’t believe in coincidences. Never have, never will.
I believe in purpose.
And that’s so much better, don’t you think?