The blinking of the cursor on a blank document was something I had been looking at for days.
Multiple times I attempted to start writing another blog. For some reason though, I was stumped and sure had hoped I would never reach this hurdle. Writing out the adoption story had flowed so effortlessly, but this time starting was a struggle.
Where do I go from here? What could possibly be as amazing as what I had started with?
After that two week mark, everything slowly began to change. The adrenaline had faded, the story was written, and reality struck like lightning, fast and furious. It was probably a mix of accepting what life was now and that a new chapter had truly begun. Along with a dash of healing hormones, I felt my grip slipping on my emotions.
An irritating impatience began to creep in. Many times throughout the day, my prayers would be filled with asking for mental clarity, joy and a gentle and quiet spirit. The almost unrealistic peace I had experienced seemed to have vanished. My brain was in a fog. Home life was tense, car had broken down, a new college class been started and I had an 8th birthday to throw in a week, not to mention the hormonal waves that would express themselves randomly, there seemed to be utter turmoil stirring up within me.
I genuinely felt at a lost for words.
Survival mode. Ok. I’ve got this.
It wasn’t until one of my nightly walks I had taken and cried through shamelessly behind my sunglasses that I realized where I had yet again, humanly gone wrong. I obviously don’t have this. I, like Peter, had launched myself out in faith, took my eyes off Jesus and in a split second, began to sink.
A quote by Beth Moore had put these past two weeks perfectly into perspective, “The path to peace is paved with knee prints.”
It was not my duty to worry about the words. It was my duty to pray. It was my duty to give it all to God. It was my duty to make peace with my family. To humble myself, borrow the $1100 dollars from my dad, and get my car fixed. To give my very best effort in school, throw an awesome party for Noah and simply be content with the now.
Just kidding. I humorously envisioned myself in the presence of God having the nerve to respond with a scrunch of my nose and a stomp of my foot like I really knew better. It was though with a big sigh that I came to terms with the fact that the only thing I was to do now, was to continue to let go and let God. A gentle whisper instilled three words, pen to paper.
It was time to write.
Not that the stories would be anything like the adoption story. Or, even be as easy to write about. It was God nudging me to simply write. To follow His lead. To be real. To continue putting the words He gave me out there.
When faced with the wide variety of days life likes to dish out, there is a certain healthiness to search out ways to make sense of them. My secret weapon, besides God of course, has been writing. Whether good or bad, male or female, writer or not, speaking the words to a phone, typing them, or going old school with a pen and paper, documenting what is in your brain exposes what is in your heart. It shapes a new reality, perspective and harvests a deeper understanding.
Revealing unexpected truth, it brings nothing but a sweet gift of relief.
Starting my journaling at the age of eight, most of my first journals explained, in great detail might I add, what happened throughout that day or week. Then, over the course of the years, my writing began to develop into an outlet. Almost like a savory conversation with a dear friend, a bond had been created. Writing slows down time, allowing me the chance to breathe and think while shifting what seems to be a discombobulated brain into balance .
I find I write my way to peace. Paired with a good cry at times, my heart pours itself out, in joy or sorrow, my brain reboots and moving forward is only made easier.
Psalms 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” Because most humans fight stillness, or have been programmed to categorize being still as too much work, time and energy to get to, there is a missed opportunity of experiencing a peace that surpasses understanding. Personally, brain emptying in yoga or zoning out on tv don’t seem to be real sources of stillness, but one of many quick bandaids. To discover one that fills the soul with rest, the brain with clarity and gives real relief to the heart, take the chance to get to know yourself on a deeper, sometimes scarier level.
Write when you’re mad. Vent when you’re angry. Write to the person that hurt you, tell them why, then throw out the letter. Write about your day or something that stood out in the week. Document your vacation. Note on your day planner what you remember in a dream or a line from a movie. Write what you’re thankful for. Or jot down a bucket list. Write about writing. Write whatever comes to mind, unfiltered. Don’t write though if it feels like a task, or pressure yourself into it, but find time, whether 5 minutes or 5 hours, once a week or once a day, devote them to experience a time of stillness in writing. Allow yourself the opportunity to get to know who you really are from the inside out.
Through being still you bridge the gap between you and God. Through writing, you better understand why you operate the way you do. Put the two together and discover not only a wellspring of unexplainable peace, but a sweet relief to all that’s been building inside.
“May the Lord bring good to you and keep you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you, and be kind to you. May the Lord show favor to you, and give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26
Please don’t hesitate any hankering to comment :))