It’s been a long time, my friends, since I’ve shared a few words with you.
And it’s not that the desire to write hasn’t been there; it’s just… the ink ran out of my pen.
It was sudden. Surprising, even, when it ran out and I remember that day like it was yesterday, how the sun was blinding my eyes and how people seemed too happy and how the crushing reality of who I was didn’t correspond with who I wanted to be.
So for a while, my journal sat, untouched on my nightstand, collecting dust and every night, it seemed, I’d do the same routine: slide beneath the sheets, turn off the lights, and simply stare at the ceiling. Eyes open, mind blank, just… empty.
Sunsets were viewed in black and white.
Roads were driven but never traveled.
Brownies were eaten but never tasted.
Writing changes one’s perspective on life for it is through words, one learns to live. And stripped of this integral part of who one is is similar to being asked not to breath, so it feels today like I’ve been holding my breath for an incredibly long time.
But what to say? I don’t even know where to begin. A lot has changed since the last time I’ve written to you.
Sleepless nights and questions whispered into the darkness have aged me.
Knees bent and heart hurt prayers have changed me.
Willful anger has been wrestled. Wounds of offense have healed slowly.
Forgiveness and repentance have become a daily process.
And God has been there through it all. (Deuteronomy 31:6)
Kneeling together in the wake of devastation, I clutch Southern Gal’s hand within my own and we cry and pray together and things are right again, like they should be so we stand on shaky feet, on the edge of the unknown and then the goodness of the Lord starts raining down about us so we trust and learn to laugh again as we walk this way together.
So glad you stopped by, friend. But will you please consider joining the community by signing up to receive new posts via email? Just 3 a week, slipped silently to you, from me.
In Him, Always for Him,