What an odd little season I find myself emerging from. The past few months have been so full, busting at the seams with activity and business, pinpointed with moments of hurt and brokenness, life moving along as if everything is perfectly normal.
I spent some time last weekend out at Lake Bryan. Why I had yet to discover this gem of an escape, I'm not sure. But it came at just the right time, just when I needed to still the noise even for a few hours. I was like a kid on Christmas morning – exploring paths, reading a trail map, trying to recall the names of the wildflowers, balancing on logs, and traipsing through hidden woods in silence. It was then that I remembered, then that it hit me: this is what I find to be life-giving. Spending time with those I love, working on projects that I am passionate about, and living in community with others provide that as well. But underneath the trees, where time seems to stand still, where distraction is minimal... this, this is where I hear the Lord. And so I was reminded of the importance of making time for those moments, making time to get to the places where I really connect and can dig deep with the Lord.
In a similar manner, writing is like that for me. It's this organic, evolving, healing chance to let out so much of what bottles up inside. It's the chance to be raw and blunt without having to make a big announcement or face off with those who might not fully understand. It's a chance to wrestle with and applaud a God who keeps life moving even when we want it to stand still – for time to sit in the pain or celebrate the joys around us.
So I find myself back here, returning to a blank page. There are approximately a dozen "started but not finished" posts from the last 6 weeks, not including the hundred pictures or so that have backed up. Eh, we'll get to those. For now, it is enough to enjoy words finally being thrown back up on the page. Come along, if you'd like.
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