I wasn’t going to do it this week.
Because I haven’t really written anything for two weeks or more – or ever? – and why squeeze a turnip for blood again?
Tears come to the desert and I’ve spent more time slumped on the floor lately than putting words to life, or speaking words of life.But the writing always brings relief.
Like water in the desert, always there but waiting to be noticed.
So I grab a purple pen and put it to paper. Because writing begets writing and I am living a good story, despite the days of struggle. Or because of them?
“Everyone has a story,” they say in the writing world.
I am a misfit here and I am only fit for one world, I think. But the words bring that world here and take us there, and somewhere in the ink and the pixels I always find Jesus, and not just myself.
Isn’t that the way it goes? The things we love and the people we love the God who loves us – all of these converge on one road and words make the margins of our way.
You should write something today. Write words to a friend or a child or a spouse who needs to see the edges of eternity on the rough road of life.