A Good Word

I’ve noticed that when someone asks me to come speak to a group of people at some later date—to share my artwork, stories, or encouragement—I’m nearly always happy to do it, excited about it, and feel honored to have been asked. But when the date rolls around, very often it catches me on a particularly introverted day, or at a time when I’m feeling discouraged, and maybe even wanting to shrink and hide in a little burrow, far away from any crowd.

I don’t know why it happens that way, but it does.

This past weekend I read a story to a wonderful group of people at a lovely, creative retreat. A dear friend had asked a few months ago if I’d be willing to share, and I happily said yes. Right away, I knew exactly which story I’d read—a gothic fairytale full of symbolism, with a theme of light shining out of darkness.

A few days before the retreat I was still feeling energetic and hopeful, looking forward to sharing my story and spending time with musicians, artists, and writers. But somehow, as usual, when the day rolled around, I was very much wanting to hide. Before breakfast, I caught up with my friend who’d invited me to share and said, “Hey, would you rather I read a nut-shell version of my story, instead of the whole thing? So that it doesn’t take up as much time?”

“I’d like you to read the whole thing,” she answered smiling.

“Okay, are you sure?” I prodded. “Because I don’t mind shortening it.”

“I’m sure.” she said.

At breakfast I sat down next to a couple of my friends—a painter and a photographer. The photographer said, “I heard you’re going to be sharing something with us today.”

“Yep, that’s right,” I said looking down at my plate.

“How you feeling about that?” She asked.

“I’m feeling not good,” I answered.

“Why?” she and the painter asked together.

“Because for some reason I chose to share a gothic fairytale I wrote and I have no idea why. I can’t imagine that any of these people would typically reach for a gothic fairytale—it’s the most random thing.”

“Some of these youngsters would probably love a gothic fairytale,” said the artist. I laughed and felt a little better.

The photographer leaned in. “Remember what Jess said yesterday?” (Jess Ray was the main speaker at the retreat and is a wonderful musician). “She said that if you try to write a song that everyone can relate to, you may end up watering it down and sacrificing its authenticity. But if you write something very specific, often people will find themselves and their story in it.” I did remember that, now that she mentioned it.

Later, as I waited for my turn to share, a decorator friend sat next to me, opened my sketchbook and drew a funny little cat. It was simple but full of personality. It looked like it had been through a wind tunnel. Beside it she scribbled, “This is the only thing I know how to draw.” Under that she added, “I love moss and mushrooms and Amy.” I laughed.

As I made my way up to the front of the room and settled into a chair by the fireplace, I didn’t feel like hiding anymore. I read my gothic fairytale with confidence.

It’s amazing the difference a few good words offered at the right time can make.

Blessings to you today—may you find opportunities to offer good words to fellow travelers.

~Amy