My First Blog Attempt
Facebook has this wonderful app called “On This Day” that I completely love. I have a thing for memories. And being able to see what I posted on this day, years prior, is pretty much the best.
Yesterday an interesting one popped up.
I had almost forgotten about it! The idea to start a blog was something I had thought about for a long time.
I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Even as a kid I was always writing something. I have folders and notebooks and journals full of stories and lists and letters.
But posting something on the internet for everyone to see, is a lot more risky.
But one night, at 2am, the lack of sleep was just enough to let my guard down to risk something like this. I know, I know, starting a blog in the wee hours of the morning under the influence of sleep deprivation is rarely a good idea. Thus the cheesy name of that first blog… "A Pure Beauty… but not the common kind”. Don’t judge me.
The best part was that the first blog didn’t work out. I made one post. And the post wasn’t even originally meant for the blog. It was just something I wrote one night as I was frustrated. I remember sitting at my computer and typing what was on my heart. And by the end I felt better. It was weird. I remember being so shocked that a bit of healing and revelation had come from me just sitting there and typing things out.
It’s sort of fun to look back. I’m proud of the 22 year old Emily that took that first step and tried something new.
In honor of it being 4 years (and one day) later from that original post, I thought I would share it here. That first blog has long since been deleted. But I still have this first piece of writing I shared on the internet. It feels so raw and unpolished, but I like it.
(Originally written November 26, 2011)
I hate that I have this longing that has not been filled. I know it’s not right. I have Jesus and that should be enough. I love Jesus and he is my everything, but yet on nights such as these I have a longing. What is it? What do I need? What is missing? My life should be complete.
I want to be whole. I long to be whole, but I know I am not. I am broken. My life has been abused. Me, the very essence of me, has been taken and abused. It has been ripped from me and I have to fight to get it. Each morning I wake, each breath I take is a fight. I fight against the enemy that longs to take me out. And I’m weary. So weary and tired of fighting. But I press on. Even when I long to stop. To stop and let the evil one overtake me, but somehow I keep moving. And in those moments, I look back and realize that I am protected. I am carried by my loving Father. I may not fully be able to appreciate Him for who He is, but it’s okay. I’m a work in progress. I have years of damage that needs to be mended. But that doesn’t take away from the goodness and kindness of my Father. He is good and I know it. Even on my bad days, deep down I know it.
And this is where my longing makes sense. I long for my Daddy. I long to feel his love the way I should. That longing is there so that I keep reaching. That despite my brokenness I keep fighting. I keep fighting, because I know that with each day I get closer. Each day my heart heals from my Father’s loving hand. And that longing gives me the motivation to press on. To seek Him out more. I will see Him face to face. I desire my Father and know that he desires me. And so I fight. I press forward. I see the enemy’s attack, but push through. My Father is worth it. And I will do what it takes to seek Him.