I don’t know if you know this about me – I love being anonymous. It’s one of the best things about living in a city – you can go out and slip into the crowd, simply becoming one of many. But the last few years, I’ve been unpacking in myself a deeper trend of self-isolation. Whether it’s choosing not to spend time with people or just keeping quiet in a conversation, my past is dotted with a pattern of pulling back from others. Partly it makes sense because at least on some levels, I’ve always been more quiet and truthfully, writers, somewhat in their very nature are isolated. That’s why they write instead of speak or sing. Even if they place their heart on display, it’s through their thoughts and not their physical presence or image.

Now, you may be saying, Caitlin, you write a blog…on the internet. A place billions of people have access to. This is not hiding place. Ah yes, but even now, there’s still distance between you and me. Odds are, we’re not in the same room right now, this being the internet, we may have never even met. You don’t know what I look like writing this right now (at least I hope not – but that’s another fear for another day…),you may not even be able to pick me out of a line up. We are connected here, but there is still plenty of space for us to avoid eye to eye contact and real discussion about what I’m saying.

So when my church’s magazine contacted me about sharing my post on identity a few months ago, it took about five minutes for me to say yes. The story is personal – as in, I cried a lot while writing it and it’s basically a culmination of months of struggle leading to a moment when God finally broke through to me in the kindest of ways – and sharing it with people that I will have to continue seeing on a regular basis could get messy. People may recognize me… but let’s be honest, not really. In a crowd of a few thousand, who’s really going to remember what my small bio picture in the back of the magazine looks like? Plus, the story could get hidden somewhere towards the back – people will totally thumb past it…maybe, no one will even read that issue…all totally real thoughts by yours truly.

Then a week ago, the graphics team contacted me about their idea for the story layout: they wanted five pictures spanning my childhood through present day to use along with the story. My parents both described this as ‘awesome,’ however I failed to see how sharing my chubby days, big glasses days and awkward teenage days with this small, but big world was awesome. Let people lean in even closer to who see who I am? Open up juuuuuust a little more? Even if I closed my eyes and ignored it, people were going to see the photos – and me.

All last week I fretted about the story. I would open the document up on my computer, read two sentences and grimace at my words – too this, not enough that – and sent myself into a vortex of ridiculous questions and doubts about who I am and what I’m suppose to be doing. I thought all week about what photos they would use, how big they would be and what people are going to think of them.

And then I picked up a copy of magazine yesterday and let me tell you, my story is the center story – literally, if you open to the center of the magazine you will see my face…times five. As I write this, the magazine is sitting next to me. Ever so often I peak at the pages, read one sentence and close it quickly. I still haven’t made it through the whole story.

There is no hiding now. And I’m starting to think that my entire life is going to be like this – an exercise of opening up and pulling out my heart for us all to stand over, poke at and learn from. Not because I am great or wonderful or interesting, but because I’m just like anyone else – I struggle, I over-think, I dance around the room and feel that I am more often awkward than awesome. And because this is where I return day after day – to the blank page – with my beating, sometimes aching heart to ponder all of that, pound words out and if it’s a good day, be present and open enough to hear God sing over them and speak into them.

Believing in God’s providence means that I cannot believe in coincidences. There are no it just so happens. It just so happens that an editor of the magazine was reading through my blog posts? It just so happens that she happened read far enough back to catch a post I wrote the previous month? It just so happens that I am put into a situation where I am making myself known in a more intimate way with people I only kind of know but can’t avoid? I have no idea what will come of this story – no idea at all – but I sense the Holy Spirit demanding that I not shrink back and say that nothing will come of it, that no one will be impacted. Not because I am great, but because God is. I feel the demand to trust in His providence.

So though I have no idea what may come of it, I’m so thankful that you’re here with me today, because really, that’s what life is about : us honestly sharing our lives and pointing one another to God, helping one another to trust in Him and His love for us. So I’m so very glad we’re together –  here, and on the journey.

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P.S. If you want to see the story (or just those awesome photos), click here and scroll to page 12.