I think I have writer's block. There was a season at the beginning of the year when I was crazy inspired to write and write and write. I would write about anything and everything. Then Summer came and went and the book stayed unopened, un-edited, and unwritten. Then one night Ty and I had a bit of an argument and after agreeing to disagree I laid in bed wide awake, mentally begging God to let me sleep.
I inevitably gave up on the idea of sleep and got up. I washed the tears from my face, opened my computer and unloaded everything onto my book. I mostly unloaded on God. I told him I was angry. I told him I was afraid. I told him I was just really mean to my husband, as if He'd missed that one. I told him that this book was taking too much time. That I didn't think I was ready for it. But then my mind began to open and I recognized [by God's sweet and gentle grace] that I was the problem. I was feeling overwhelmed because I had lost sight of the goal. The purpose. I wrote these words that night:
I don't want to remember.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.
I don't want to be angry or fearful.
I want to be free. I want relief. I want rest. But I know God is working.
I wish I could give you the whole chapter because it was the most real thing I've written in all the chapters. It was like everything I was trying to neatly and precisely to put onto paper came out in the mess of that night. It was real life. It is far from precise. It is so not neat. When I read it back, I could see a scared girl crying out to her God and her God reaching down and touching her soul. Rest did not come that night, but peace did.
Oh the sweetness of peace.