Writing is hard for me.
Like, there are A LOT of thoughts in my brain and I want to
write about all of them but I don’t want you to read them except I do because I
want your affirmation. I want it so badly. But sometimes I’m scared to write because
maybe my life fails to evidence what I write about, or maybe I write about
something that I have little understanding of and you find me out.
And yet I share with others again and again that I love
writing.
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Writing forces me to organize the chaos that is my thoughts,
consistently jumbled and juxtaposed; it draws me to consider the world, its intricacies
and inhabitants; and it encourages me to remember His love: steady and sweet.
When I write about His promise to heal my waywardness and
love me freely, the comparisons between she and I become irrelevant. When I write of His vow to be like dew to my
dry heart, the tension of a few stressful days at work suddenly fades. And when
I write about His declaration to provide restoration and redemption, the
significance of that fight fails to remain legitimate.
His love is all. And I feel like I just finished writing
about that. It is His sacrifice and my freedom, His gift and my comfort, His
whisper and my song. Perhaps to share His love is the only reason I write for now, and I
think I’m going to try to be okay with that.
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Cheers to having the courage to immortalize my little thoughts
on the world wide web. Tread lightly, please.
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