It’s been a while since I’ve written anything of real substance.  It’s hard to get to that place to write from in the clutteredness that I know I allow my life and day to get to.  The other day, my mom phoned but was unable to reach me, and thus she had to listen to my voicemail on my cell phone.  She later told me that I should re-record my greeting, as it sounded like I had recorded it on a low day.  I explained that I recorded it intentionally in that way, as I had tried to tone down my voice in a way, so as to be softer, and less zingy and zangy.  More palatable, more patient sounding.  More comforting, more mellow.  I guess  I sometimes feel like I sound like an excitable small yappy dog, one of the ones that never shut up.  Yep, that’s me sometimes… I just keep on barking in a high pitched shrill… yap yap yap.

So what is this softness about that I’m looking for, searching for, or trying to be?  Maybe it’s a softness from the inside, that I do know is there, yet doesn’t seem to always be tangible.  Maybe it’s a speech seasoned with just the right amount of salt (love), and just the right amount of inflection for just the right moment.  Maybe just not the sound that sounds excitable all the time, the yap, the yip, the zang and the zing.

Wondering to myself… is it possible to take the yappy out of me, and still be me?  And, maybe it is just me, in that when I listen to my own voice, it’s only something that I hear… the shrill yap, the zingy and aloof girl who could stand some more maturing.  Maybe in all reality, it’s not really there at all, and instead, I should be content to sound just like me, however the me sounds in that moment.  The very me who God has created and brought with flowing grace into each gift of a moment that I am honored to be a part of.  Maybe it’s not about me trying to sound like I am soft persay, but trusting that when the time calls for it, the Spirit within me will guide me in giving generously the gentleness of heart and self-control of speech or tone, which beautifully finish off the list of the fruit of the Spirit.

Being content with me… the shrill, the zing, the zang, or the dull, the thick, or the moments of no thoughts at all.  Giving myself as myself, not as some phony put on self, that doesn’t to my mother, sound like myself at all.   I love you mom.