sometimes, i think i’m really smart. i did well in school, i use polysyllabic words, (i can spell polysyllabic), and know not to put metal things in the microwave.

sometimes though, i’m not smart. these moments usually involve two things.

1) choice of shoes (i.e., wearing high heels to run around large arenas for conferences)

2) directions, maps, roads, streets, or anything involving a “point a” and a “point b”

following a tragic day of wearing very high heels, in attempt to check into my hotel and change shoes before the evening events of the first day of catalyst, i fell victim to the street naming system of atlanta.

everything is peachtree road.

for example, my GPS directions to find my hotel included:

Go NW on Peachtree Rd NW
Take a slight left on Peachtree Rd
Turn left at Peachtree Ind Rd
Make an immediate right on NW Peachtree Rd*

after driving around in traffic for an hour and a half, i finally found my hotel, quickly changed my shoes, and at unheavenly rates of speed drove back to gwinnett for the deadly viper session.

arriving a few minutes late, my catalyst friend ben and i managed to find a two empty seats in the very middle, very upper, very back, very highest possible spot. during some of the transition times, we conversed on some catalyst things, some blogging things, some life things, and then he asked the money question:

“have you ever thought of shutting your blog down?”

i might as well have kept my high heels on, because it would have felt much more comfortable for him to have taken one of them off and then punch me repeatedly in my eye than for him to have asked me that question.

there was no good answer. i had thought about shutting my blog down once, but it lasted approximately .0002 seconds.

what would happen if i shut down my blog?

that question has been in my head for the last few days.

i imagined doing it. shutting it down, deleting my facebook account, my twitter account, then disappearing altogether from social networkland.

and after i recovered from hyperventilating, i pushed the thought out of my mind.

far out of my mind.

because there are many good reasons not to stop blogging - the community and the influence and change that this community has brought to issues of poverty and justice and faith.

but there is one reason my social media butterfly self couldn’t vanish.

and i wish i could say it’s valuable or worthwhile or noble. i couldn’t because if i did, i wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

i couldn’t…be.

i wouldn’t know who i am.

and i realize this is all my flawed thinking. my insecurity. my need for affirmation and worth and, dare i say, even attention?

it’s not pretty.

i’m not shutting down my blog. but wow, has that question challenged my motives.

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*disclosure: GPS directions are represented with slight literary exaggeration

i know, i know…blah blah blah catalyst, blah blah.  is anne ever going to write on her blog again?

yes!

i will still be tracking the events of catalyst at the backstage site, but am saving this dear blog for some more personal reflections, should i have any along the way.

i noticed the comments have slowed down died on here lately and i’m sorry for not inviting more conversation.

ask my husband and he will tell you the amount of time i have poured over every outfit, every accessory, every scent of deodorant i may wear as i have planned for catalyst. 

this opportunity that i have is like an IV push of those most influential in leadership (if you define influence as speaking to a large group of people in some medium or another).

everyone-all-at-once-wham!

me?

i am just a newbie author with a blog with flowers meeting these pastors, authors, and speakers for the very first time. 

it makes me nervous.

and i became obsessed with making the best first impression.

one author in particular, who i was extremely nervous and excited to meet, is william paul young, who wrote the shack (which as irony would have it, on amazon, our books are paired together for a great bargain!) 

now, in full disclosure, i have not actually read the shack yet. 

but i will. 

and in the mean time, i have highly regarded and admired mr. young’s ability to start discussion.  it’s nothing short of amazing.

tonight, as i pulled into the hotel (disheveled, sweaty, rained upon, and gross)…clothes over my arm, earrings falling out of my ear, as i attempted to press the elevator button with my elbow, a voice behind me says,

“i’ll get it.”

together, we hop on the elevator, he asks me what floor.

“two, please.”

i ask him if he is here for catalyst.  he says yes.

“my name is paul.”

“i’m anne jackson.  i’m hosting catalyst backstage.”

“oh,” he says.  “i’m the author of the book, the shack,” he continues, unassumingly.

he leans over to give me a hug (me - disheveled, sweaty, rained upon, and gross) and we talk about some of the upcoming events on our calendars. he graciously fills me in on his schedule.

we arrive at floor two, and i head to my room.

(disheveled, sweaty, rained upon, and gross).

my first catalyst first impression. it wasn’t what i had in mind.

but it was beautiful.

we have had some discussion on what happens when people confess and when people don’t confess.

today, i’d like to throw a theory your way….

one reason why people don’t confess:

…because deep down, they don’t want to change.

carry on.

sometimes circumstances in my life work very similar to an enema for my brain.

granted, i have never had an enema of any kind before, so perhaps this is just speculation.

life has been hectic lately. despite my hesitation of public speaking, i’ve taken on a few more opportunities. chris has been working a lot. my family has a little drama going down. his family is going through the loss of his grandpa. there are airports and plane tickets and bills and cars making funny noises and deadlines and emails and laundry and exciting book things and friends coming into town and friends moving and friends grieving.

maybe it’s the cumulative result of all of these things over the last two weeks that have caused this flush of any kind of creative output from my head, but that’s where i am at. anything noteworthy or newsworthy or thought provoking or interesting at all has been removed completely from my brain.

so i won’t be talking much until it has been refilled. and the temptation during times like these is to fill it up with things that are easy to process, or fun to absorb, but meaningless. during this time i will be shutting up and listening. praying and listening.

and i’ll see you soon.

last week, i mentioned something chris had said about living in america but not living an american lifestyle. over the last few months, we have made some drastic changes that have helped us look at needs vs. wants vs. reality differently.

in oklahoma city, we lived in a brand new luxury apartment in downtown. when we moved to nashville, we could have moved into a cottage in the famous downtown franklin (read: trendy and expensive) or into a 1970’s townhome in older west nashville, sight unseen.

we chose the townhome. it’s a few hundred dollars a month cheaper. and it has wood paneling. which i have grown to love.

yet i am still tempted. i am still plagued. with the speaking engagements, and inevitable public appearances that come with widely releasing a book, i feel i must look a certain way. dress a certain way. have my hair a certain way. lose those “last 10 pounds.”

because i feel as if i don’t, people won’t take me seriously.

i am a jeans a tee shirt kind of girl. i don’t always match. on purpose. i love my flip flops. it literally takes a wedding or a funeral to get me dressed up. it really hasn’t mattered much to me…until now.

i have to admit, i’m feeling the pressure.

would it be so terrible to wear my (nice) jeans and my (nice) shirt when i talk to pastors who are old enough to be my dad? will they take me seriously? will my glasses make me look smarter, or be a barrier for eye contact? will they notice that i’m 28? does it matter i’m a girl with nine hours of college credit, and only three of those were a bible class that i barely passed? should i get my nails done?

[welcome to the inside of my mind]

it would be easy for me to drop a grand on a new wardrobe that would make me look like i have my stuff together. i could look really sharp, no doubt. i could hire someone who knows something about how to dress people so i don’t feel so darn self conscious.

but i really don’t think that would truthfully represent me — all of me.

yet i feel the pressure. and i’m struggling with it. i think deep down inside, i know it doesn’t matter. but i so feel that it does…

do you?

last week, i had a great phone call with mike foster, one of my deadly viper cohorts and soon-to-be co-conference speaker when we both speak at ministry com in september.

something we talked about was, of course, the conference, and i confessed my continued trepidation of public speaking.

let me rephrase that: my continued trepidation of the expectations of public speaking.

it’s not that i’m just scared of it…i know it’s not where i’m naturally gifted, and i’m fine with that. i love communicating, but i am much more effective doing it via ink and paper.

i never planned on becoming any kind of public speaker. and something that is taking a little getting used to is the sense of being thrust (almost literally) from a shy girl behind this blog into a perceived expert in front of people who communicate verbally weekly for a living.

there is a huge difference between speaking to a few thousand people on a blog and a few thousand people from a stage.

for one, right now, i’m not wearing make up.

now, everybody says it’s the content that really matters…but as a casual observer of conference feedback, if someone doesn’t nail their session in an epitome of engaging perfection, for the most part, people seem to care more about their presentation than their actual content.

(as an example, i wasn’t there, but heard that patrick lencioni was fairly awkward and uncomfortable presenting at catalyst last year. not one person told me what he talked about, only that he seemed really scattered in his delivery. that’s all i ever heard.)

people expect that when you’re a good writer, you’re a good speaker. that when you’re bold and confident in your presentation online, you’re bold and confident in person. so let me be the first to smash the crud out of that expectation, at least for me, and say the gap between the two is huge.

so, what i can promise?

i can promise that i’ve been working hard and praying hard for months over the few speaking engagements i have. i can promise that i’m not going to pretend to be as engaging or as eloquent as pete or craig or seth or the millions of other speakers i admire. i can promise that i am just going to be me. quiet and a little awkward, but positive that i’ll be doing my best.

and sweating. probably a lot.