writing – Chasing Joy

Category: writing

hot cross buns

February 3, 2020 / mel

i have words and sit to write about the narrative running lately thru my mind, heart and days.

but when i come to the keyboard they vanish like birds chirping as they fly away; ‘catch me if you can’

this.

is the state of the blog.

i have been honestly questioning what wisdom there is in putting my journal out in the world rather than simply living among those in my real time and space.

and anyway, lately the journal has been a slow weave. thread upon thread cast onto the story line of my life, yet the shape of what is being made remains a mystery.

the daily obediences, the showing up to where the Lord has me, the not showing up to where the Lord is withholding, the constant wondering if i actually have all that backwords.

and then there is the practical side of being in a season where i am rarely, if ever, alone in my little house-even the writing of this post has met numerous interruptions. if i find myself resenting the life of the people sharing my roof, well is it worth it? if all i can do is start a thought and not finish it, should i even bother attempting to form words that anyone, besides the One who has searched me and knows me, could understand?

but there are some who have said they miss my words. and i have had a desire to commit to the practice of writing again. practice in the sense of a 6th grade violin player moving the bow on the C string again and again and again. then adding in the D for a time. eventually coming out into the kitchen to play for his mom hot cross buns.

i can’t say that i will publish the single notes from the daily writing practice. but the occasional hot cross buns may show up here from time to time.

below is today’s song……

________________________________________________

Evangelism

the snow falls gently. i glance up and out my window to the houses lined up like a row of sleeping children tucked away back when large families shared the same bed.

behind all those doors lie story upon story upon story.

there are names and portions i have come to know. griefs, longings, frustrations, joys, satisfactions, gratitudes.

but that is all. i know my neighbors, yes, but how much have i allowed them to know me? to know my story? to know Who has captured my heart?

~~~~***~~~~

this past weekend, i find myself intentionally seeking to share my heart deeply. it’s not the easiest as i’m socially awkward in large gatherings. i know not how to do the small talk. but dumping the depths of my inner dialog on unsuspecting friends and relatives results in lots of blank stares and people looking for a polite exit.

still, the state of the hearts of those i know matters to me. and i’m tired of just gathering together and acting like it doesn’t. so as i find myself in a rare opportunity to catch up with someone i’ve known longer than most anyone, we have enough time to move past the surface and into deeper waters. just as the moment arrives to dive in, an interruption; a child needing tended takes us off course and we never return. it could be another year before i even see this person again. and another five before real conversation takes place.

~~~~***~~~~

the failures of yesterday’s Sunday gathering pile up, one upon another upon another. cut to the heart, i feel the weight on my chest, heavy. daunting.

there was so much conforming to the patterns of this world, so much peer pressure, so much standing alone and shrinking back.

we can’t unsee what we’ve seen, can’t undo what we’ve done, can’t go back and do what we failed to do.

as i bow in repentance before the One in whom there is no condemnation my heart is still struck with the implications of my sin. we wrestle a bit, He and i. the cost of my forgiveness isn’t lost on me. nor is the cost of my sin.

He sends a bit of fire, coupled with the opportunity to demonstrate repentance before the ones my sin affected the most. “it won’t be wasted,” whispers the One who works all things for good, “remember-nothing ever is.”

~~~~***~~~~

question after question after question fuel the fire- acting as cleansing coals upon these unclean lips:

do i believe what Jesus says about hell?
do i care?
do i see those around me dying and long to ease their suffering?
is He worthy?
are they?
will all this darkness stop the light from getting thru?
is anyone able?

He is

__________________________________________________________

to draw further in: Isaiah 59: 9-21; Luke 4: 14-21; Romans 8; Isaiah 6:1-8; Something Needs to Change by David Platt

stuck

April 16, 2018 / mel

the words, they begin to form coheasive, clear, deep.

placing the last dish on the rack, i reach for the towel, dry off and grab my laptop.

it takes time for it to boot up, time to sit.

such a short amount of time, really.

and yet. the words they have left. gone.

staring at the blinking cursor.

i have no idea where to begin.

why?

sigh.

ok.

i hear the birds. through these old windows, i hear them.

this sabbath day, calling me out.

to sit.

quiet.

am i willing

to shut it all down again

and wait on the Word made flesh?

i guess, for now

while it’s quiet here

i can be found outside listening to the birds

waiting.

Kingdom Come/things i learned this first month of 2016

February 2, 2016 / mel

writing has been so very hard this month of new beginnings. thoughts mingle with beautiful sentences inside my head, but when pen hits paper or fingers touch keys they fly away like ornery fireflies, refusing to be captured. snippets here and there, but nothing of length and so what better way to persevere than to gather the threads up and bring them to emily’s month end gathering. it seemed hopeful to me to do so, and doing something hopeful feels a little like winning don’t you think?

caroling, cancer and first and second things.

someone we love was too weak from her cancer fight to make it to Christmas eve services. when i heard the news the first thought that entered my ordinary small brain was this; “we should go caroling to her.” always so quick to deem my inner thoughts silly i left them there, but the Spirit had His way with another and the message made its way among the congregation. after worshiping in our church building, we took it outside and drove over in the dark to her front door to bring ‘tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.’ singing to one so very weak and frail assaulted all of my senses and through tears i lifted my head up to heaven and cried out; “what is in fact the point of this? she will still have cancer in the morning.”

a few days later i’m stirring chicken soup on her stove listening to her family share how much the caroling ministered to their very souls. he says he will remember our singing for the rest of his days….days that will soon be spent learning how to live life without his dear beloved wife.

january 1st she went home

and the One who welcomed her into His arms whispered to my soul; “curing cancer is a secondary thing. ministering to the spirit of My beloved? that is a first thing work. singing at her door those tidings of comfort and joy brought My Kingdom Come. child, keep learning to trust Me.”

the parable of the merciful servant

he’s next to me in the car telling it all. “my friend wanted something i had. i said no. my friend was mad. my friend choked me and my neck got stuck in my zipper. ”

he keeps saying; “my friend, my friend.”

i know this ‘friend’ without my son ‘naming names.’ i am familiar with his ways. my son’s choice of words gives me pause, i know he means what he says but i don’t understand.

two days later i’m standing on the playground watching boys playing at football. my son waits for this friend of his to be open and throws the ball to him. i know it is intentional. he’s shared many a time how he just wants this boy to have success. to make a play, score a touchdown, have something to celebrate because he’s so often in trouble. he misses the ball and my son calls out encouragement and building up words. to the boy who choked him.

and the One who bled for these boys whispered to my soul “Kingdom come.”

who do you think you are?

there has been this inner struggle that i’ve not been able to put a name to. the One who knows my frame knows it, and knows just how to open my blind eyes and help me to see. i saw that emily freemon was hosting a webinair on how to write a book proposal and i was drawn to it which didn’t make any sense at all. i’m not writing a book or a book proposal. i signed up anyway. when she spoke the words naming a writer’s real fear; “who do you think you are?” the tears flowed freely.

one piece of the current struggle-not just in writing, but in being fully myself in the presence of others -has been exactly this. a subtle accusation whispered and payed attention to. what now, now that i see it?

well, the prayer went like this:

Lord, i still can’t do it, i still can’t write.
it doesn’t flow,
i still feel stuck.
kingdom come.

a study in hope

Theologians talk about a prevenient grace that precedes grace itself and allows us to accept it. I think there must also be a prevenient courage that allows us to be brave-that is, to acknowledge that there is more beauty than our eyes can bear, that precious things have been put into our hands and to do nothing to honor them is to do great harm. And therefore, this courage allows us, as the old men said, to make ourselves useful. It allows us to be generous, which is another way of saying exactly the same thing.

Marilynne Robinson | Gilead: A Novel

There is a way in which the jesusy folk tend to write (I do it, too), and that way feels so disconnected from my real life that I could scream. I don’t feel disconnected with my Jesus, no, but I do feel disconnected with the pull inside me to sound this way or that – or with the pull of what others are doing so successfully to point to the kingdom of God. Maybe some perspectives are done; they’re processed, cooked up, and plated well. My perspective is still raw. I’ve barely cleaned these veggies.

Amber Haines | An Uncooked Story

People will tell you to put down your books and join the real world, for heaven’s sake. They will remind you that you live in a university dorm or an apartment reached by only a sliver of light or a temporary rental and do not even think of wasting time or money on land you do not own, but you would do well to smile and say nothing. Go on. Read. Read your books and dream your dreams. You are storing up treasures in heaven.

Christie Purifoy | How To Grow The Garden Of Your Dreams … In Six Easy Steps

But after I tucked them in bed and in between her sobs and up the stairs and down, ushering children into jammies, I prayed a new kind of prayer. Prayer was no longer discipline, I was desperate. Tired and needy and confused. And weak. Really weak. There were no books to tell me what to expect from my child, with her particular history — her cocktail of losses and grief, who was wedged into our particular family. Even the best parenting strategies were not sufficient. I needed Him.

We were the kind of weak which many Christians spend their entire lives training themselves to not be.

Sara Haggerty | I Think I’ll Choose Weak, Today

thank you dear reader, for your gift of time spent here. let’s continue on in hope, shall we?

may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

romans 15:13

for when you are waiting to be seen

December 13, 2015 / mel

“so what do you do?”

there are people who are able to put a nice boxed up title around what it is that they do. i am not one of them. and feeling a bit lost in my identity just plain goes with the territory, boxed up title or not. i know that my identity is in Christ and not in what i do, yet what i do is deeply connected to who i am.

here in this tiny little corner of the big wide web i write. there are other small things i do in my brick and mortar life, but my answer to the person who most recently asked this question were these two words;

“i write.”

“oh! what do you write?” she responded, genuinely interested in me and my mysterious life.

“uh….i don’t really know.”

i’ve questioned the time i spend blogging, we aren’t a family with large resources and it would not hurt for me to get a j.o.b. one will be heading off to college in the near future and the other two following close behind. who am i to think spending time on this writing is adding value to anyone? the voice of my college creative writing professor rings loud and clear-he said i had no talent. it was ok, i was in school to be an engineer anyway.

~~||||~~

There is a lost art of studying the works of others to find your own style. All of the “masters” were first apprentices. The apprentice sat beside the “masters”, listening to their process, paintbrush in hand, mixing paint, creating strokes that told a story, and stirred their creative spirit.

–Jeanne Oliver Studying Under the Master’s Art course*

my painting daughter has a large oil painting that was due last friday. the professor gave everyone an extension for monday. she painted all. weekend. long. yet only half of the stone church sits below the glowing sunset above it. she brought in what was done and her professor’s words stand in contrast to mine; “hannah, you are one of my most talented students. many painters spend a year on a painting like this, you can turn it in whenever it is finished.”

the point is, dear hannah, to keep painting. keep studying the masters and their process. grow and shift things around when needed. but by all means, don’t quit.

we don’t live in an apprentice culture anymore, but the concept has value to me when i let it. my perception of an apprentice is one who works long and hard hours without pay, status, or tangible outcomes. they are behind the scenes, unseen. they do the work because of a hope for what is not yet, but will be.

~~|||~~

unseen. hope for what is not yet, but will be. apprenticing. the slow process of growing into a truer version of myself. this is what the writing life is for me. it’s still unseen and in process. it takes an immense amount of courage and patience to do the apprenticeship work, to believe that the One who knit me together has value to add to this world through words i compose. small work is challenging in it’s hidden-ness no matter what form that work takes i think. but there is One who entered the world He created through the smallest way possible-who arrived as an ordinary baby, in a tiny little corner of the big wide world.

He is the God who both sees and knows what it is to be unseen.

the point is, dear me, to keep writing. let it take years if it needs to. but by all means, don’t quit.

a bit of housekeeping

June 11, 2015 / mel

it’s been nearly a full two weeks since the last day of school and each and every day i have had an idea, a plan of sorts, for our waking hours. and i have yet had one day go according to plan. i sit here on the fence between establishing a scaffold for our time and resting in the One who is actually in control. these things need not compete with one another, but daily disappointments need tender tending if i’m not to grow cynical and give up all together.

i intentionally planted those pansies. the squirrels intentionally uproot them and drag them outside of the pot. i wake to find them strewn across my yard and re-pot them. i can not make the squirrels stop. eventually i cry uncle and let the pot be. but then i see, there in the upturned dirt, with roots barely even covered, this plant fights back and blooms. so i tuck it back in a bit and bask in the beauty. and i allow the Spirit to work in my heart, enabling my eyes to see the beauty planted in each of these unpredictable days, to keep plugging away at the work though the progress is slower than i’d hoped.

progress. it’s always slower than i hope.

so it goes here. i’ve multiple drafts for the life series, among other things. and i’ve begun work on some of the technical aspects of this space as well. over there in the sidebar there is now a way to sign up to receive posts in your inbox. i know my writing is not predictable, and this will allow you to receive an email with the post each time one is published.

i appreciate all of you who stick it out with me and this space, thank you thank you. if you try out the e-mail thing and find anything not working, drop me a line at mel at lucashome dot net.

and may you know that deep comfort from the One who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them by name. Because of His mighty strength and great power, not one of them is missing, not a one. He is keeping track of the stars, and oh so much more, He is keeping track of you and me!

to draw further in: Isaiah 40, quoted above is verse 26

5 things i learned about myself in 2014

January 2, 2015 / mel

As the calendar takes a turn to the new year, it feels apropos to reflect back on all that this year held. unless i make myself write it all down, anything i learned will float about in the air and i will forget and whatever it is will be lost in space. when i force myself to do the work of organizing my thoughts and writing them down, i am more likely to remember. and when i forget, i can look back and be reminded-and eventually new found freedoms stick!

Here are some things i learned about myself in 2014 along with a few of my favorite pictures from the year!

1. The idol of being understood is not worth its price.

it is a breath of fresh air to be understood and quite painful to be misunderstood. this isn’t really news to me, but the awareness of how much energy i waste on anxiety, fear, and stewing over it along with other sins i commit because i’ve made being understood into a god was a new area of learning. i’ve decided it’s not worth it.

2. I can be the boss of our money.

i learned some new lessons on being the boss of our finances rather than the victim of them. just like it is in the management of my time, saying no to some things means saying yes to others. This year we more fully owned some of our choices to be frugal and thrifty in some aspects of our budget so that we could be extravagant in others.

3. I have tendencies towards recipe living and series writing.

my eyes were opened to ways i’d reduced prayer to a recipe. somewhere along the way i bought the lie that if i could just fine the right ingredients i could control the outcome. once i saw this i began to see other ways i’ve applied the recipe principle in my living. catching thoughts like; “i thought if i loved them well, my children would grow up secure.” when i hold that thought in my hands and turn it to see all of it’s sides, i get to the bottom of things and can speak to myself what is true; “loving them well is important, but they will still need God.” Because raising children and living a life of faith and prayer, etc. etc. etc. is colorless when reduced to a recipe, i’m pulling away from that and entering instead into the Love Story life is meant to be.

i also began to notice how often i find myself un-intentionally writing a series-one that i did not plan. the only time i plan a series is when i’ve taken on a 31 days writing challenge. those challenges stretch me-not just because it’s writing everyday, but because it is writing within a planned series.

4. I enjoy the company of other writers.

there are things about me that i never knew were a part of a writer’s make-up. when i attended the Writer’s Barn Event there was a lot of; “What? you too?” moments. There were so many parts of that Barn day that will forever enrich my soul and this was a big one of them.

5. I don’t have to pick a word for the year for there to be one.

i didn’t pick a word for the year. i’ve never picked a word for the year. But the One who has engraved my name on the palms of His hands chose one for me, and i didn’t even know about it until just this week. As i spent time looking back, there bookending my year was the word Wonder. I began the year writing a series on Wonder. And i ended the year doing the same. i didn’t connect those dots. The One who chose the dots for me did the connecting. that sense of Wonder that i longed for is no longer lost. at least not today.

Goodbye 2014, you’ve been a Wonder-ful year!

i am thankful for the community link-up; What We Learned in 2014 over at Emily Freeman’s place, it’s just the thing i needed to follow through and do the work of remembering!

for understanding | composition

November 17, 2014 / mel

Her eyes give away the anxiousness mixed with anticipation. in her thoughts she reminds herself that her God is both good and sovereign and can be trusted with what He gives and where He leads.

Photo taken at a Quilt Show in 2011. I do not know the artist’s name.

composing those words and this picture amidst a scene of other excited travelers embarking on a wonderful week-long artist retreat in Normandy France would carry the statements about God into a specific place in a receiver’s heart.

composing those words and this picture amidst a scene of bomb-destroyed rubble and other weary and frightened travelers embarking on a long journey to a refugee camp would carry the statements about God into a very different place in the receiver’s heart.

same words, same picture. different understanding.

the places that the Lord is inviting me- you know, those places of feeling inept, the pain of being misunderstood, of struggling with communication. i have become aware of a myriad of ways this is playing out in my life these days. Providentially showing up it seems everywhere i turn. and so my Father has my attention and i am seeing various places for tearing down idols and building up strength in Him. so here i am with another unplanned series.

today is a lesson in composition.

i have mastered enough of the English language to effectively use words to communicate.

however, that composition thing-the way words filter in through the composition of a person’s life and land where they will within that– Jesus alone is master of the skill of weaving words perfectly and personally, getting to the individual heart of things. He is also the master of the skill of giving enough detail in such a way to gain understanding. me-i am inept at all of that. and so if anything i say is to be understood the way it is meant to be understood-He will have to intervene. and if anything i say is to be understood the way HE means it to be, He will have to intervene there too.

…”for apart from Me you can do nothing.”

and so the Master Communicator invites me to pray over my words….

….and then release them into His capable hands.

growing quiet

November 12, 2014 / mel

i sit amongst a group of folks and attempt to share a glimpse of hope from my tender Father. the response is clear-they don’t get it. in fact what they hear is completely opposite of what i am actually saying. it’s important to me, so i try again. i give it a third go. driving home, sifting down the frustration and i can name it-misunderstood.

i resolve that i must be inept and unable to communicate. and so i grow quiet. everywhere.

later, i’m back amongst these folks and 4 people, yep 4, share the very glimpse of hope i was attempting before and everyone, yep everyone gets it. i resist the temptation to declare (read shout) “That’s exactly what i was saying!” but i don’t. instead i write in my journal-what am i going to choose to do with this? What are You inviting me into here?

i am very well aware of the churning and battle going on that is specific to me and there is no coincidence here-this pain of misunderstanding, this awareness of my lack in communication-it is purposeful and i know the Lover of my Soul is inviting me into something other, something new.

so i do what makes the most sense for thinking deeply and processing through what is going on in my heart…..

i clean odd and random places; the drawer under the stove, the top of the fridge

i dash outside facing off that wind blowing the fall out and winter in and rescue a few branches with leaves on them…you know to decorate with.

i sit down and read one of the Anne of Green Gables books.

Gilbert had finally made up his mind that he was going to be a doctor.

“It’s a splendid profession,” he said enthusiastically. “A fellow has to fight something all through life…..and I want to fight disease and pain and ignorance…..I want to do my share of honest, real work in the world, Anne….add a little to the sum of human knowledge that all the good men have been accumulating since it began. The folks who lived before me have done so much for me that I want to show my gratitude by doing something for the folks who will live after me. It seems to me that is the only way a fellow can get square with his obligations to the race.”

“I’d like to add some beauty to life,” said Anne dreamily…..

-Anne of Avonlea p.53

me too, Anne, me too.

Composition|reflections from my time at The Writer’s Barn

September 30, 2014 / mel

i arrive earlier than i’d like to; my preference when attending something alone is to arrive not early, not late, but in the middle. i don’t like having all the seat options to choose from-i am aware of the way picking a seat has the potential to paralyze me because i’m feeling a bit unsure of myself. but i was told i could leave my insecurities behind and i remind myself of this as i sit down and breathe a prayer to the One who is in charge of Providential connections.

i Release it

i sit there, a recipient of Myquillyn’s art. personally i lack the skill and know nothing about the composition of a room. but she does. and her art creates a framework for what is becoming within my soul.

i Receive it

the time together begins and Traci keeps us on schedule and informed about the important details. personally i lack the skill and know nothing about the composition of the details surrounding an event. and her art builds on that framework for what is becoming within my soul.

i Rest secure in it

Emily Freeman and Christa Wells spend the beginning hours taking us through the craft of writing. Principles and truths that i will chew on and apply for years to come i am sure. i am paying attention. We are given a break for dinner and then we return for an evening of story and song. i can’t even. These hearts that are traversing the very land of writing-they are so generous in their sharing.

i Take it all in

this is the very thing i need. i know nothing about the composition of notes that make up a song. i do know there is a deep place within my soul where things are becoming. and music-especially the piano-have always been a most effective way for that becoming to transpire. i am learning about the composition of words, but before this event i didn’t fully understand the composition that makes up a writer. the frustrations and tendencies and nuances of “doing homework for a living” as Emily so aptly put it. These two beautiful women have placed their brushstrokes within the framework for what is becoming within my soul.

i am changed by it

Composition is the “State or quality of being put together, The art or practice of so combining the parts of a work of art as to produce a harmonious whole.”* The Master Artist brought together each and every part necessary; all that i’ve mentioned above combined with the people i met, the hands that prepared the snacks, the families behind it all; He has so combined all the parts that became this Writer’s Barn….and produced a harmonious whole to be sure.

He created a Masterpiece

and i delighted in it.

(As you can see there are no pictures with this post. i just couldn’t take any and i’m not completely sure why. But you can go here and here to see some.)

(I will be joining the 31 days writing challenge hosted by The Nester. unless something else comes to me before tomorrow prayer will be my topic.)

*Webster’s 1946 edition

heading back to N. Carolina to spend time in a Barn

August 30, 2014 / mel

Last year i went to N. Carolina to attend an afternoon At The Barn

as a family we’d been impacted by a fire in 2011, another one in 2012, living in town 5 of us crammed into a 2 bedroom 800 sq ft house, and many battles for hope.

personally, i’d turned 40 and found myself walking blindly through a fog of decisions that included leaving a ministry i’d been a part of for 15 years, clueless as to where the Lord was taking my heart and my life but following step by step and clinging to Isaiah 42:16 and 50:10-11

in the middle of a flood, i pressed the button to reserve my ticket for The Barn Event.

on the plane i finished up the last chapters of Emily’s book; A Million Little Ways, and waited in anticipation for all that the Lord would do during this much needed weekend away. then there were no words for all that transpired between the airport and the actual event. but i carved out a few anyway-The Lord, my Shepherd .

worn and weary i headed out on the road towards somewhere, NC and that glorious Barn.

and i began to breathe

And for an afternoon i was refreshed, inspired, seen. and i was so very glad i went.

and i learned a thing or two about rest. that rest not a place, rest is a Person. yes He can use a place to draw me into deeper rest in Him-What Emily said about hope applies here too. sometimes rest finds you on the Beach, while other times you have to dig for it among the bugs.

lately i’ve been growing in taking my writing more seriously. by that i mean, actually telling people; “i’m writing” i tried it out the other day at the vet’s when i got to see our actual vet whom i’ve known for years but rarely get. the question came; “how have you been, what have you been doing?” and i updated him about the ages of my kids and then i said; “i’ve been writing.” the vet was a safe place to try it out, it’s less risky because the odds of him actually asking to read anything is very slim.

but the saying it out loud to someone else means i am giving it value.

home alone, i was on Emily’s blog the other day and i saw the link to another barn event. this time specifically for writers. my heart skipped a beat and i payed attention. i allowed myself to go there. that meant clicking the link to the event and checking out the details. then looking around online at flights and hotels and what would it cost? then seeing the cost and knowing it was not doable and sitting back in my chair and grieving. then getting out the map and seeing what’s nearby. and then checking flights to nearby places.

it is cheap to fly to Atlanta. i tuck the knowledge away

jeremy and the kids come home and there is all the telling about their time and i listen and we go about life. amidst all the noise and moving about together, i mention it. softly and timidly, i mention it. “there is another barn event, this time focused on writing. it’s in Midland, 4 hours from Atlanta.”

and he listens.

and sits down and pulls out his phone (because, the calendar). this summer things shifted for him at work and he’s been traveling every month. to Atlanta.

“when is it?”

“i think that’s when my next Atlanta trip is…..yep it is.”

“i think you should do it. go ahead and buy the ticket and then we will work out all the details.”

i hesitate a bit. then move toward the idea. we talk about taking a weekend away together. he mentions the places he’s been that we can now see together. he doesn’t mind me spending part of our time at a writing event. even though he’ll be dropping me off 4 hours from our hotel? he says he’ll be fine finding something to do. i’ll return home on Monday, and he’ll stay behind for work.

i buy the ticket.

This time, i’m not necessarily going for rest (tho i’ll take it whenever it comes!)

no, this time, i’m going to Atlanta for the romance.

and to the Barn Event? i’m going for my heart.

Category: writing

hot cross buns

Evangelism

stuck

Kingdom Come/things i learned this first month of 2016

caroling, cancer and first and second things.

the parable of the merciful servant

who do you think you are?

a study in hope

for when you are waiting to be seen

a bit of housekeeping

5 things i learned about myself in 2014

Here are some things i learned about myself in 2014 along with a few of my favorite pictures from the year!

1. The idol of being understood is not worth its price.

2. I can be the boss of our money.

3. I have tendencies towards recipe living and series writing.

4. I enjoy the company of other writers.

5. I don’t have to pick a word for the year for there to be one.

for understanding | composition

growing quiet

Composition|reflections from my time at The Writer’s Barn

heading back to N. Carolina to spend time in a Barn

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