I'd heard whispers of November. Other artists coming together and spilling words on pages and receipt stubs - watching them pile into sentences, paragraphs, chapters - forming a story.
I knew it well. It's where I birthed Come Alive, where I realized these words stirring inside could mean something.
But I didn't think this year was for me - I could feel the burnout creeping into my soul, could see it in my search for a job, could smell it in my lack of trust in His provision.
I began to doubt this calling of artist and started pulling back the reins.
And then a word - one single word - began surfacing. It was a mantra against control, one that speaks of adventure and wanderlust and sitting in wait. I could hear Him whispering won't you just trust Me?
I knew the importance because the resistance settled quick and deep. Excuses show up when our comfort is questioned and threatened, and I could sense the biggest beasts coming to have their say.
But this is more than me writing a book's worth of words in a month. This is a story of obedience. This is a plea for relinquishing control.
I can see failure lurking around the corner - a haunting smirk plastered across his face. He reminds me of the times I've tried this in the past and missed the mark. He brings up the empty canvases, the art journal collecting dust, the blank pages in my moleskine.
I know it's risky - this belief in One unseen. But I do believe, despite my doubt, and I know He's able to do abundantly more than I could think to ask. So I believe. I forget the other jobs and cling to the one He's given me. Instead of control I plea for stories forgotten. Stories needing to be told. Stories pushed deep in my heart and waiting for their time.
I reach for my pen and I push the paper toward His hand. I sit and wait, knowing the words will come and trusting that even if they don't He's called me to this place for a reason.
50,000 words or not, I will show up every day and at the end of the month I will know the words come straight from His hand and nothing more. This is what it means to risk - to trust.
This is what the Storyteller means when He asks for my control.