My Biggest Fan

My mom has always been my biggest fan.
She's told me so, of course.
But even more than that, she's shown me so.

In 5^th grade, I wrote and illustrated a an itty bitty story, 

     she still has the copy.

     If you asked her to pull it out, she would know just where to find it.

In the 7th grade won a tiny writing contest;

     she still tells people to this day.

In the 12th grade, I earned a minuscule scholarship for college through an essay contest, 

     she not only told anyone she possibly could,

     but she could also show you the video tape she recorded of me reading the essay to the small audience that included people only present for those who won the other scholarships below me.

So, considering the audience,

my mom was not only my biggest fan, 

but she was most likely my only fan in the room.

But, that was never quite enough for me.

I always wanted someone else to be my biggest fan.

Cassie, that’s horrible. That’s your mother! She loves you more than anyone on this earth ever will!

Yeah, I know. 

In fact, I’ve always known that. 

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I would write, but I would write my own way. I wouldn’t write quite confidently, either.

Writing with boundaries made out of fear, I would try to please and coax the opinions of others, while simultaneously appearing like I had it all together.

This way, I could do what I wanted, while acquiring the approval of others. I could have fans!

And I lived off of those fans: the twins from my church whom have been my friends since I entered school, my newspaper advisor who had to read my columns, and even my principal. They spurred me to keep writing, and I thank the Lord for them. Because, and I didn’t know this until now, but God was using them to cheer me on: whether they were aware of it or not.

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But, back to my discontent.

I needed more praise, if I was going to really do this whole writing thing.

I still wanted more. It still got me down that my best friends never said quite much, and if whoever I was dating at the time didn't care to read something I spent time writing, and follow up with any form of affirmation, it would eat me up inside.

Would I tell them? No way.

Not only was that not Cassie behavior,

but I wanted unprompted, natural, ingenuous praise.

Little did I know, I was already receiving it.

It wasn't until God really started cheering me on,

that I have actually taken hold of this passion He has put inside of me.

How do you know? What was the difference?

Everything. I don’t just write when I feel like the time is right.

Now, every time feels right: whether it’s on my notes in class, in the notepad on my phone before I go to sleep, or even on my hands if I don’t have any paper around.

Before, I would only write when the Lord really convinced me with what I thought I was in the right time and in the right place.

Now, I can’t find enough time to write, and I will go great lengths just to be in an atmosphere that will allow the words to fall out of my mind and on to the keyboard faster.

Not Cassie behavior.

Congratulations, Cassie. So what?

 “Do not neglect the gift you have…” 1 Timothy 4:15

Grab hold of the passion He has instilled in you, and take a lesson from me:

Listen to the One who really loves you.

And, not only that, but the One who really knows you, too.

How do you know He knows you?

I love to write. And, I’ve never loved it more than I have since I’ve finally let Him cheer me on.

And, though I know I need the encouragement from the cheers of others,

the only voice I’m beginning to truly hear, treasure and actually crave…

is His.

Plus, if He really loves me- wouldn’t He want me to do what I truly love?

And, if He really knows me- wouldn’t He really know what I really love? Better than I?

In fact, if He really loves this much and knows me this well,

wouldn’t He love to see me to do what He knows I love?

I think He’s aching for it, actually.

Wouldn’t He cheer me on in the loudest voice He has, whether it be through people or through the tiniest flame I had in 5^th grade, until I finally broke down and began listening to Him?

But, now that I think about it, maybe that flame wasn’t so tiny.

Maybe it hasn’t been Him who has begun to cheer louder…

Maybe I’m just deciding to listen…

Thank You.

Oh, and thanks Mom. J

I love you, too.