Rediscovering the Joy of Blogging

It’s working. It’s really working!

Last month I confessed that I, the woman who’s always trying to get other women to blog, was fed up with blogging. When I first started blogging over a decade ago it was simply for the love of the written word. Then blogging became a business and each post had to be strategic or it was considered a waste of time. At first, I loved the business side of blogging. Then I started to loathe it.

In fact, I even thought about not hosting the #bloglikecrazy challenge this year. But then I had an idea. I decided that I would try to use the challenge to rekindle my love for blogging. And I would do so by taking these 30 days to not worry about writing strategic blog posts but to instead write posts that — whether fun or heartfelt — were authentic, transparent and true.

And it’s working!

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Affirmations for Women Who Blog

As a writer, I obviously believe in the power of the written word, but I believe in the power of the spoken word, too.

Proverbs 18:21 states “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

As writers, as women, we must choose to speak life over ourselves every day. Here are some affirmations to help you do just that:

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Faithfully Feminist (Part 2)

You can read Faithfully Feminist (Part 1) here. 

For most of my childhood, I was oblivious to gender roles and stereotypes. I climbed trees faster and more fearlessly than the boys in my neighborhood because no one ever suggested that I couldn’t — or shouldn’t. My mother didn’t care if I wore dresses or jeans. My father was the one who cooked Sunday dinner and most other meals, too.  

But it was the church that taught me girls were to be seen not heard. It started when I got kicked out of a vacation bible school class one summer at my cousin’s church for asking too many questions about Proverbs 31. When I got older and even more interested in religion, I told my Granny I had thought about being a preacher one day and she told me that would never be allowed because the Baptist church believed the pulpit was no place for a woman. This was long before I called myself a feminist, long before I even really understood what that word meant. Yet, when my well-intentioned grandmother said those words something stirred within me and gave me a command as clear as God’s to Moses through the burning bush: “Rebel!”

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