It’s been a while I know. Let’s just say I’m working through some things. Perhaps I will write about them later, for now, I’m writing a valley of compost. Some of it will be seen. Some of it will be heard. Some of it will be tucked away in the folds of my heart, for my soul alone. Today, I want to give you a brief update on how my one word is going.
I had my word, intentional, before the year began. I didn’t pray about it. I didn’t really mull it over. It just came to me. I needed that kind of grace. I like the word intentional, but does it ever come with a commitment I didn’t see coming. Continue reading Sitting in the Pain→
Many voices speak of hope in the unseen, comfort in the broken places, and light in the piercing dark. Today my Story Sessions friend, Leigha, is talking about friendship, loss, and pressing in to grief. If your heart is weary, may you be encouraged as you read her words. They are powerful testimony on the resilience of the human spirit, and I am honored to share her healing words in this space.
The week before I moved to Montreal to start grad school, I took a road trip. I called in sick to work, packed a bag, and I drove for 6 hours. For 6 hours I conjured up the cool feel of granite beneath my fingertips. For 6 hours I practiced tracing all 22 letters of her name. It had been 3 months and 4 days since I had made the same trek to say goodbye to Victoria. Continue reading Pressing in to Grief→
At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” Mark 5:30
Know what I love about this story – the woman, with a constant 12 year bleeding issue, who reached out touch the hem of Jesus’ robe? The women was bold in her faith. She took such a risk to move into the presence of Christ. She had been an outcast, one unclean. She’d been cut off from community and connection. She had been separated from family and friends, but that day she took a risk.
She would see Jesus. Touching the hem of His garment she believed, “if just touch the gem of his garment” and instant healing came. The bleeding ceased but so too did the disease of isolation. Wholeness came that very day.
Writing is hard. You have to show up to your writing station, and write. You have to be diligent and consistent. I struggle with both, but I still like writing. Trying my hand at memoir was the most difficult writing I’ve undertaken because it required I study deeply the story of my life. I’m glad I did it though, because there was much unveiling truth. It was not an easy process, but one that allowed me to grow and gain perspective.
I believe there is healing in the writing and wrestling of difficult things and hard memories. I tackled a few hard things when I wrote my memoir earlier this year.