This writing is hard. Walking through darkness. It brings emotions that I thought were long since passed. Memories surface that I want to forget. This is the healing. Words passing through finger tips.
I write a lot. Words scribbled in notebooks, typed on phones. Words. I want to save them… words of long studies of scriptures, letters to my dad, my girls, silly thoughts that pass through my head… words carry weight. And I pray the words that I actually share in this space. And I am amazed that people find them. That they can relate to them. That’s all God.
I feel responsibility in my sharing. What if I get it wrong? What if my story doesn’t come out right? These questions fill my head, get in the way of the words lifted up. And the fingers are paralyzed.
The answer is there is no getting it wrong. Because it is my story and only I can write it. And if I write truth and transparency, then there is no wrong. I am not writing doctrine or theology, just my journey.
That is all I can do, that is all He asks me to do. And how and where the words fall? That’s all God.
So I write my story a day at a time. And I work through emotions and I heal. And it is good.
God, are you there?
I am right here.