I know you have a purpose.
When I first started on this little website/blog journey, I thought you were the neatest thing on my dashboard. Every day I’d run home and check you to see how many people had stumbled across my little blog. There would be the number of views to the website, and the number of visitors, and the search engines used. I tore through it as if it were a Christmas morning free-for-all. Look! Someone actually visited my site!
You encouraged me.
You pointed out that I needed to be at the top of my game for ALL of these visitors. I wasn’t just writing for my dog anymore.
You gave me a taste of success.
And then something happened. Then one day, I checked your page and I noticed a terrible drop off in my numbers. At first I shrugged and chalked it up to a busy Sunday, but then it happened again, and my confidence started to waver. Then someone UNSUBSCRIBED to my blog. What was going on?
Feelings of failure crept in. Those familiar old voices telling me I had nothing to offer, nothing to say, nothing worthwhile to write. It knocked me down. . .right down to my knees where I had a few things to say to my all-powerful Father. And he had a few things to say to me.
That’s how I discovered what YOUR purpose is.
First, I can tell you what it’s not. Your purpose is NOT a way for me to measure my success. It might be something that publishers and agents look at to determine the “tribe” of a writer. But that’s their purpose for you, not mine.
For me, you reveal areas I need to watch…like the words people use in the search engines that lead them to my site. I’m pretty sure the person looking for information on the quadratic formula was terribly disappointed. Although, I hope the folks from England searching for information on the “end of the world” found something useful.
You also give me a way to know who’s subscribed to my blog, so I can pray for them and remember them when I feel like quitting. They’re helping me to be a better person. I can’t write this stuff for them and live a double life.
Anyway, you probably have no idea the craziness you’ve caused for me. You’re analytical and all about the numbers. This isn’t emotional for you. It’s just math. And it’s becoming decreasingly emotional for me.
Maybe the best thing to come out of all of this is how you made me think. You made me take another look at why I write and figure out for myself how I’m going to measure the success in that. You’re not a big factor in my success equation. But you are an important cog in this machine that moves me forward in my adventure of life, so thank you.
Thanks for doing what you do. I’ll check in on you from time to time, but don’t worry when you don’t see me. I’m doing just fine.