Hi, I’m Julanie and I’m a mender. I’ve come to notice that I am a fixer (of people and broken things) and sometimes it’s draining.
Is it just me or am I always giving the best advice to everyone when I’m at my lowest? Yet in my own struggles, in my day-to-day life, I can’t seem to help myself. I have what many would call a dream job. I’m a singer and a songwriter, and yes,I do this for a living.
On numerous occasions I have heard that my songs, and specifically the lyrics, have been close to what people are feeling, or they function as a descriptive mirror of what is happening in their life and or situations. Although it means the absolute world to hear your art and work have not been in vain, for it to have real impact means it came at a cost. You see, when it’s purposeful, it carries weight, and that does not come easily. It comes with a price tag. An example: in 2018, I lost a friend of mine to cancer, she was a beautiful mother, sister, friend, wife and daughter. Her death brought on a series of events in my life. It shook not only my faith and belief system, but left me profoundly depressed.
I didn’t want to think about tomorrow. I didn’t care about what was going on around me; and in the midst of all the turmoil and the tension, I wrote a song. I didn’t write it because I wanted to inspire others with her life story, I didn’t write to tell the world who she was; it was no kick-ass anthem about conquering death, as we are taught to think as Christians, or a song about how she’s in a better place. It was a selfish song, to me, for me. For the girl who always tried to fix everything and everyone. For the girl who was in pain, who was confused, out of place. I sang a song to remind myself of what my prayer would be if my hands were forever tied, if I wouldn’t be able to help anyone again or have any more grand wisdom to share. How ironic to be a broken fixer! But of all the songs I’ve ever written, it is the song that, to this day, has carried not just me but countless others. It was in my time of sorrow and grief, of full-blown despair, that I could help someone- maybe not right at that exact moment, but in moments, hours, days or months to come. You might not be a songwriter, but you have your way of helping others and that is never small. So even in your brokenness, don’t think you can’t serve a purpose.
You might be a mender like me or have your own beautiful struggle. But it’s in the tension and trials that our weaknesses will become our strength.