sometimes i stare at the screen and wonder if i have any words left. i'm not talking about the literal sense - the forming sentences and paragraphs and chapters sense - i'm talking about the figurative. i'm talking about the whispers of a beginning i hear in my heart and feel in my spirit. the pull toward the keyboard i can't control and the rush of feeling i get hearing the rhythm of my words - His words - form on the screen.
here's the thing. i think a lot of times i'm questioning not myself or my ability but His goodness. did He not give me these words? did He not knit me together to love the tapestry of story? i fall into this trap of mistrust and forge ahead unwillingly, spitting out phrases that sound like clanging cymbals because they aren't backed by the One who loves.
then there are those other moments - the ones where i feel Him pushing me, leading me, lighting a fire within me until i just can't take it anymore - i can't not write what He wants me to and it's scary and most times i'm tenderly hitting the keys with tears falling down my cheeks because really? i need to say what? i need to share that which brings me pain?
because it isn't about me, even though i try to make it that way far too often. and if it means shutting up long enough for Him to speak healing to someone else through a story i've shared - i'll do it.
i've had a post in me for awhile. it's been simmering and i've been wrestling with the words because i just couldn't force myself to admit there was processing needing to be done. this past monday everything changed.
i'm still stumbling over the words. i'm still wrestling with my own fears and trepidation but my writing is nothing but honest, and so i write anyway.
eventually my mind will catch up with my heart. until then, i wait and write and pray.
i'm sharing imperfect prose with emily today - join us?
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