On “being healed of being a big deal”
When I was four years old, I donned the emerald green satin leotard of my dreams, tutu attached, and danced on a stage before an auditorium full of smiling people, STARING AT ME (and about fifteen other little girls). It was incredible. I still remember the smell of the statin, the magic of their attention, their applause. I hated ballet and quit soon after. But I loved the stage and I spent the rest of childhood longing for more ways to force people to smile and cheer for me.
Some might call that vanity. I can’t say I disagree. I also can’t say I’ve changed. Last spring I released a memoir, my first book. And though I did my best to keep my expectations small, I held secret hopes that it would explode into the New York Times Bestseller I always dreamed I would write.
This is a shocker, I know, but my book about motherhood and prayer and monks didn’t go all bestseller on me. It didn’t crash and burn either. It’s done moderately well. It’s a book I’m proud of, but it also hasn’t changed my life.
Seven months after my book released, I am coming to terms with my status as an ordinary author. My writing life is simple, and good. There is a book on my shelf with my name on it. There are the lovely reminders from readers that my book meant something to them. And I am learning to receive this as a gift: I’m not as big a deal as I always hoped I’d be. Though I’m someone who wrote a book that praises the beauty of humility, this is a lesson I will probably be learning for a long time.
. . .
Today I’m over at Deeper Story sharing about vanity, the Old Testament character Naaman, book-writing, and the healing that comes from recognizing I’m not as big a deal as I always wished I would be…