A Widow's Offering.

Thirty-nine days; Thirty-nine days until my dreams of becoming a writer, whatever that may entail, begins. Normally, I don't put my writing up for public display, so bare with me as I get warmed up to the idea of an infinite audience, which may or may not only be my husband. Don't get me wrong I have been blogging on and off since late 2011, but being introverted, even behind a computer screen, has it's disadvantages. 

Over the past few years, I have bursted into the thrown room, collapsed on the threshing floor, and laid down my widow's offering (Mark 12:41-44) before the King, with or without an appointment.  Out of hurt, I've laid there sobbing, asking for answers as to why everyone has a title but me. Jack is teacher. Jill feeds the orphans in haiti. The list for the amount of people I know who claim a title go on and on. As for me, I was a mutt; at least that's what I claimed. 

My story has, at times, been very dark–nonetheless, I still remain the reader not the writer. Ever since I graduated in 2007, I have been on a hunt to finding myself; most days, it's more like a scavenger hunt, finding pieces and clues along the way. Even After giving my life up to Christ in 2010, I have struggled with the question, "Who am I?" 

 We live in a culture where everyone is more or less a hipster and in a sea of people trying to be authentically "original"  it's hard to find your beat. I, over time, have clung to the lie that I am that which is tangible. That my very essence is the only thing in me that is worthy of offering.  Countless years have been spent creating someone whom the world could love. 

And That's just it–All these years of creating has left me bankrupt. Emptiness exudes me as I spend countless hours on pinterest, pinning away at the things that make up that in which I claim to be. And like a dog returning to his vomit (Proverbs 26:11) I pick up where I left off every morning, after swearing the night before I was done. 

Six years later and The Lord is now allowing me the ability to go to school and use my talents for His Glory. Since 5th grade I have known my gift to be as simple as a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. Yet, I find myself realizing Whether I become a writer of many books or working in public relations for a non profit, it will never be the title that makes me who I am. It will merely be what I do, and that, is what I missed all those years of looking at my friends who were already "established." I've come to the conclusion that Whether you're a janitor or a missionary working in brothels your calling is still the same, "that in whatever you do, work heartily, unto the Lord and not for men, know that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ." Collisions 3:23-24. 

So I set forth on this quest, this great adventure. And at Twenty fives years of age I begin to understand how to, finally,  find myself in Christ. To wrap my attributes, my personality, my character in the pages of a God whom knit me together. (Psalm 139:13) 

“Spend it all. Shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place…give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things will fill from behind, from beneath, like water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”—Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

Love, 
Lauren  Folk