Censorship

I’ve been trying to decide what to write in my blog today. Still wrestling with those questions of who I am and how I want to use this blog to present myself as a Christian, a writer, a counselor, and any other facets of my life that I may or may not want to disclose.
I kind of wanted to share about how frustrating it was to have 3 people compete for my attention at the bus stop the other day. But telling you how I feel when strangers find out I’m a counselor and race to tell me their problems louder & faster than everyone else (and before the bus comes), well, that might not sound very Christian. So I’d better not tell you that.
I was thinking of starting up one of those blog quizzes or polls or letting you in on what’s on my ipod. I’ve seen some interesting questions and such posed out there. But I’m still not sure that’s how I want to present myself on my blog. It might not be very writerly. Besides, I really don’t know enough bloggers yet to share it with & make it fun. So I’d better not do that.
Then I had this great idea based on some things that happened recently involving screwdrivers, lilacs, and radio morning shows. However, I’m thinking that might actually make a good article, so I should save the material for that. I know, I feel kind of bad withholding that from y’all. But a girl’s got to pay the bills. So I’d better not write about that either.
A random surf of blogs out there will easily show that not much is censored. But all this got me thinking about what we censor before we let it “out there.” I wish some people’s internal censors were in better working order. Mine goes on the fritz more than I like. When you communicate something, you can’t take it back. Sometimes it’s hard to consider the long term consequences of our words.
Other people censor themselves more generously. We get scared that others won’t like what we’ve expressed. So we leave “the good things we ought to have done, undone.” Being real involves risk. I can’t feed the person who doesn’t come to our food pantry because he won’t admit he’s hungry. God can’t sort out and heal my anger and impatience if I deny feeling any such unpleasantness. I can’t help but wonder about the depth and breadth of relationships that are overlooked because of censorship.