everywhere she looked she saw words. so, like an artist puts oil on a canvas, she painted her world by putting beauty into words.
so i paint with my pen. always looking under and around for hidden things. things that might go unnoticed or get overlooked unless pondered. the words seem to carry this weight. the weight of story and wonder and expression. and somehow the act of writing them down brings release and resolve.
and after all of my reluctance and hesitation at offering my writing , i see now that i am the one who has gained the most. i still don’t know much, but i have become so much braver and willing to let my deeper self be seen. hooray for small miracles.
so, it’s with a grateful heart that i dig for beauty in this life and attempt to do it justice with my words. words, like seeds planted that grow and take on a life of their own. and the writer in me cultivates and arranges them…waiting and looking for a thought to take shape or sink in. and i know with certainty that the words are all His. and that He has spoken them over me for my whole life.
but, like a song hidden by noisy chaos, i had to peel back layers to hear the words. and be willing to listen in the stillness, with my pen and paper in hand.
so , this is what i offer.
my lifetime of walking with Jesus and waiting , and listening for the words. words He has given me in moments of intimacy, desperation , brokenness , delight , and honest wrestling. and His words have proven faithful even when i was resigned and dead. His words sprouted new life from the hard, sometimes fallow ground of me. stubborn, jaded, and stuck me. hesitating and disbelieving me.
but the small seed of hope never died .
then, like the tiniest, frailest flower grows between the cracked rock or concrete, pushing it’s way up toward the bright warmth of day… i risked offering.
i risked capturing this life’s journey and believing God somehow had redemption in mind. and believing that hope really could grow from bareness. and beauty from ugliness and ashes.
and to capture it all with words.
to gather up all the parts that make the whole and watch what form it takes. like ripped up pieces of a photograph brought to restoration by putting the bits back together. only then does the picture becomes clearer and a taste of the beauty more complete.
so now i see, that the act of writing is really just a process of gathering, and discovering, and narrating as i look for the next beautiful line in the poem He is writing.
and capture the words of the story He is telling.
thank you to those who encouraged me to offer and didn’t let me off the hook, even when i resisted . my heart is fuller and my soul is braver for knowing you : Michelle, Robin, Christi, Virginia, Cristi, Connie, Justine, Anne, Adrienne,Jenna, Lisa, Linda & Leigh. xxoo jamie