Streams in the Desert

“A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.” Proverbs 25:11

This morning I woke with praise in my heart, worship just seemed to pour forth from my soul. I wish I could say this was a regular occurrence in my life but for today it was such a sweet discovery. I am discovering how amazing it is to be loved, truly and deeply, nourishing me beyond hurts I didn’t even know I had.
Many of you have noticed my sudden silence and I am touched by your concern and amazed that you look in on me here, sharing my life and my words. It’s an incredible gift to give a writer, to know that someone takes the time to read your scribbling. So to you I will admit shamefully that, as of late, writing, one of my greatest joys, has been an unspeakable burden. I just finished another round of revisions on my baby (at least my first child.) This time around my wise and patient editors have urged me to go deeper into my experience exposing the vein of truth and honesty that I have never breathed to a living soul, let alone to the pages themselves. They, my editors, deserve my thanks though if it wasn’t for this project I am sure I would have glossed over the many deeper levels that are so important to healing. And I honestly believe anger is such an important part of healing. But I admit I doubt if I would have ever gone there willingly. In fact, I have been kicking and screaming every step of the way. The first time I felt the Lord urging me to write about my experiences I fought hard. I didn’t want to do it, I couldn’t do it, it would mean unwrapping the many layers of a present I didn’t want in the first place.
This last month, as I sat with my manuscript in my lap, I could feel the air rushing past my ears as I was sucked back in time. Back to the darkest days of my existence, I am no passive observer, simply recording the events; instead every part of me is transported back in time. And I am amazed at how exhausted and incapable of life I am like this, like a lump of flesh unable to contribute to my world. But this isn’t my world, not now; today my world is filled with hope, kindness, and security. Except for the day’s I need to write, then I am a prisoner to my past and this makes me angry. My life no longer resounds with the death knell of despair but like a diver I gasp for breath and plunge into the depths of a pain that seems to consume my world even when my world has moved on. The moral of the story is I plan to write children’s books for a while after this, or at least non-fiction. Like a battered soldier I am licking my wounds, and healing, praying my unborn child isn’t permanently damaged by the feelings I have been stewing in. But today is different, today is sweet last night my husband and I took an impromptu trip to visit family leaving just after work and returning in the wee hours of the morning. And I loved every minute of it. As our conversation weaved and wandered my sweet husband would tenderly slip profound compliments into his comments. These observations have had such a powerful effect on me nourishing hurts I had no idea I had until he spoke kindness into the subject. For me its an amazing experiences that someone could find anything good in my soul while I have been so introverted and immersed in my own suffering. Despair is selfish, robbing us of others and forcing us to see only our own wounds. Like a breath of fresh air this man that I admire and respect was attributing me with worth and virtue. Truly love is the greatest healing power of all and I am honored to share my life with such a Godly and sensitive man.