For when the words write themselves. On me.
“I go to prepare a place,” He said.
Sometimes that place is within driving distance.
A quiet retreat center near Omaha, in this case. The drive a three-day journey.
Each mile a wearing down of the callouses that had grown around me. Each passing exit an invitation to lay down another layer. The ones that had been added to my spirit so slowly and subtlety, I had no sense of how many it would take before the numbness wore off. Nor how exposed the long-neglected feels would become.
“Come away with me,” He whispered, “and let me show you the story of your life.”
The words wrapping around me in hugs. In song. In conversation. In scripture. In nature. In laughter. In tears. In silence.
Abundance. Peace. Blessing. Faithfulness. Grace.
A feast of words I was unaware of my hunger for.
Until I came open. Exposed. Turned inside out.
I went to a writer’s conference and didn’t write a thing.
For I was the canvas, not the pen.
Linking this reflection of Small Wonder with my friend and fellow blogger, Kelly Chripczuk, who hosts a Community of blogging Beauty Hunters at her site. Because our Big God shows himself in the most amazing small ways.#smallwonder