I have a love-hate relationship with parties. Whenver I get the nerve to throw one, a voice deep inside of me hackles me with the fear, "What if no one comes?"
I'm not sure if it is a childhood thing, or a plain lack of security but that ugly thought always rises his head whenever I decide to open my home to visitors.
Last night was no exception.
Twenty plus people from my Sunday school class celebrated Christmas at my dining room table, family room couch and around my kitchen island last night. We had enough food to keep everyone here for a week.
But even long after I'd filled the garbage can with half-filled cups and leftover plates of food--the fears filled my thoughts again: Was I a good enough hostess? Did I get to everyone and ask about their lives? Did they really have a good time?
I know rationally my fears are ungrounded. But fear works like that, it gets under your skin and uses anything it can to unnerve you and to destroy self-confidence.
Fear is doing that with my writing right now. It's been trying to worm itself into my thoughts inch-by-inch and despite some recent successes--it's managed to take root in some of those areas I haven't nailed down yet.
Like writing a good book.
So I'm doing battle right now with the thought that I might never be able to write the book I really want to write. And maybe part of me needs to listen to those fears so that I will take whatever next step I need to do--like praying more, learning more, and writing more.
So that's where I am in the process. What have some of you done when the doubts begin to pile up?