Put Down the Pen

Everyone has a “pen” in their life…a place of sadness or unrest that holds a hidden blessing.

A place of fear and pain.

A place of tears and surrender.

I’m not talking about the pain of losing a loved one…that’s a pain we need to put into another category. I guess this is more about sacrificing something you love, failed plans, desires not met, or relationships and dreams that broke and suddenly you find yourself cut from all the shattered pieces.

I refer to this as a “pen” because my story involves my love of writing and what happened when I chose to put my pen down for almost 2 years.

My journey with writing began when I was 13. That was the year I bought my 1st diary. I began writing here and there. Nothing too exciting or noteworthy.

Anyone who knows me, knows that as the years went on, writing became my life line, my sanity, my safe place, my heart. When I had a pen in my hand all was “write” in the world. Writing was always something pure and sweet and a place where I would get ideas and inspiration and experience Gods presence. It was such a unique “hobby” and I felt privileged to experience God in this way. Eventually I would write almost every morning and sometimes at night. I developed a nice little routine… I always started off the same way, put the date in the same place, sat in the same chair and it was always about the same thing. Then I would close up my journal, put it in my little white basket from HomeGoods and go about my day. My relationship with God, my life, my choices, my future were all wrapped up in my journals, nice and safe. My words were all mine and I never shared them with anyone. I had total control of the pen and was documenting my life and future plans.

In college I minored in English Writing and tried my hand at some poetry and short stories. My favorite story came after a life changing trip to Sicily when I was 20. I wrote a story for my mom called “MonteGrosso.” My professor helped me focus my thoughts and words and it was the first time I really “worked” on my writing. It was also the first time I was writing something to share with others. It was scary at first but I couldn’t wait to give a copy to my mom and show her the words that she had inspired. She cried through each and every word and like any good mother, told me I had a gift for writing and should keep at it. Well that was the only story I ever wrote that I allowed others to read. I quietly moved on to my teaching career and back to writing for myself, never exploring anything outside of my journals. I tucked myself away again and settled back into my comfortable little life.

Then without warning, one Monday night in April of 2014, the unrest settled in. I had just finished writing and this unfamiliar feeling came over me. I had been trying to write my way out of all these emotions I had over a guy. Almost immediately, I knew the source of this new-found discomfort was coming from my journals. This guy filled page after page of countless journals. I knew I didn’t want those words to be around forever only to be reread and analyzed for years to come. I had no future with him and needed him to be gone from my heart. I needed a new start. Something needed to change. The crazy thing is, in the midst of the unrest, I also had intense clarity and strength. I didn’t see the whole picture, just a small glimpse of what I needed to do right away. I didn’t question it, argue with God or complain. I only knew what my first step needed to be and that was to throw away my journals….all of them, every single one.

Before throwing them away, I called my best friend Amy and cried it out with her. She filled my heart with comfort and encouraged me to just be alone and quietly go through my journals one last time. I knew what I was about to do was crazy but I didn’t overthink it. I had made up my mind. I was going to be obedient to that ‘still small voice’ we all hear deep within our hearts. I sat on the floor and surrounded myself with my 39 journals. I started with my first "diary" and worked my way through each and every one. I was surprised at the emotions I felt that night.

Some journals brought laughter.

Some brought tears .

And other journals I shut so quickly...words were written that I just didn't want to read ever again.

After a few hours, I took a brave step into my sadness, then another step into surrender and I placed each journal, one by one, into the garbage.

The following morning I woke up with a determination to finish the job. The journals were still in the house and it was time to bring them outside to the trash bin. I remember that morning perfectly…it was like something out of a Hallmark movie….I’m heartbroken over a guy, resolved to get over him and get him out of my heart. I set out with determination and drag the heavy garbage bag down the stairs. The bag rips and my journals and chicken soup from the night before come spilling out all over my legs! I clean it all up, go out into the pouring rain and heave the half broken bag into the garbage can. It was only Tuesday and the garbage doesn’t get collected until Sunday. I spent the next 5 days walking by that garbage can, peaking in a few times a day to see if they were really still there…

I never changed my mind.

I never touched them.

Without sounding dramatic, the days and weeks that followed were filled with anxiety attacks and uncontrollable tears. I instantly lost all sense of direction and stability. It was one of the darkest times in my life. I felt like I ripped up and threw away part of my heart. Like I was betraying that little 13-year-old inside of me. Why did I have to do something so dramatic? Why get rid of something that was the one place I used to experience my greatest joy and peace? The one thing that made my world feel right? It wasn’t until after I threw them away that all the doubts and questions started to flood my mind. I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself. Not only did I throw away my journals, I now realized God was asking me to stop writing all together. It was a very clear message “Put down the pen Cristina.” He wanted to be let out of my journals and free to reveal himself in any way, anyplace, anytime He wanted to.

I survived those first few weeks and then the weeks turned into months. Three months after throwing away my journals I found myself booking a last-minute trip to Sicily! I hadn’t been to Sicily in 14 years and had no intention of going back. It wasn’t written in the pages of my journal. It wasn’t in my plan and wasn’t something I saw myself doing that summer. But I didn’t hold the pen anymore, so when Sicily was being written into my story, I just went with it. My mom and I went for a quick 17 day trip.

When I got home from Sicily that summer, I slowly began to understand why I needed to throw away my journals. It wasn’t a one time revelation. It was slow and sweet and took time for my heart to be open to the truth. And the truth was my writing had created a fence…a fence around the garden of my life, that was on its way to losing every flower and beautiful thing in it. I had NO IDEA that my words were keeping me locked inside this quiet boring life, one that I was not created to live. It had become unhealthy, routine, boring, and kept me in my comfort zone…the worst place anyone could be.

That last-minute trip to Sicily in 2014 led to another trip, which led to me living there this past year, which led to me writing again! When I put my pen down I honestly didn't think I would ever write again. So I was a bit surprised when I found myself with a pen in my hand and no sign of unrest or hesitation. I started out very slowly those first few weeks. I walked through my journals with cautious steps, avoiding any signs of routine or comfort. I was humbled to have the pen back in my hand and was intent on never going back to that old fenced in area of my heart.

Then to my surprise I wrote another “story” this past summer. I was struggling with the thought leaving Sicily and the life I created there. My mother kept insisting I write about it, so the week of my birthday I wrote about my experience of living and loving in Sicily. I was so scared to share my words again but decided to take another brave step into my fear and I posted it on Facebook. I honestly didn’t know if anyone would read it, but then almost immediately, the positive messages started coming in from friends/family and even a few strangers. Many of you have encouraged me to keep writing and so I here I am. I honestly have no idea where my writing will take me. I’m taking it one word at a time. I love the crazy adventure that's been written so far and can’t wait to see what’s on the next page.

If there is a place of unrest in your life, a place of questioning or even a place of loss and pain….take a brave step into that place of pain and then another into surrender. God may not show you the big picture. He may take you step by step on a very long, slow and possibly painful journey. Don’t keep God tucked away in a journal. Don’t limit Him to what He can do in your life. You never know where He may lead you. Don’t try to write your story all by yourself. Put the pen down for a while…let God write your story. He’s got so many surprises and blessings for you at the end of His pen. He may write something you had no intention of writing yourself. He may write in people and places that are scary and beautiful and open up a whole new vision for your life. He may restore the thing that was taken away or He may surprise you with something brand new and more fulfilling.

And who knows, He may even give the pen back to you and together you can write your story…

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43: 18 & 19"

Written November 2017