I’ve felt an increasing uneasiness surrounding my creative work lately. There’s this piece that I’ve been searching for since I left the greenhouse that my college classes provided. The constant writing. The steady stream of thought. The applauding of individual work. This fierce bravery that I haven’t been able to reach again. A big contributing […]
Category Archives: learning
Nothing Is Wasted
I’ve spent so much time not talking about what matters because I’ve been too afraid of getting it wrong. Of saying something unhelpful, or revealing a part of myself that is still on-the-way, still shrouded by redemption’s beginnings.
But strangely enough, I have never felt more outside of my purpose than I did when I was deciding which parts of my heart to show and which ones to leave behind.
So, I’m dusting off the old blog to tell a story I should’ve told a long time ago.
RESTING PLACE
What happens when you drive away from the house that’s been with you since childhood, that Yellow House with the blue room and that guest bedroom downstairs that housed your mother’s wedding dress– what happens when the front stoop is empty? When no one is waving goodbye and the roses have become hedges and her paintings are no longer on the wall?
THE GAME WITH NO WINNER
It’s strange, the way we can pick up identities. I’m drowning in clothes that aren’t my own and a smile that I can pick up on cue. I’ve memorized the language of those I care about, but all that caring is in the wrong place and without my consent, I became a player in a game that has no winner.
That game is called acceptance.
the bravest thing I know
Today, with my shaking hands and my weary heart, I take a seat with gratitude and peer at its dogged, resilient face. There is no weakness in its gaze. It lifts up my chin, it says, “take a look at what you’ve been given,” and there it is— hope. I’m uncovering treasures in the morning, on the other side of the dusk where my courage fell.
TENDERLY
In the distance, I hear the pleading words rasping out of my throat: I can’t do this, I can’t do this. I don’t recognize this woman gripping her husband’s arms as if they are the only anchor.