Pen to paper once more.

This muscle.. It’s atrophied. 

It’s frustrating

How arrogant of me to think that it would be as if I never left this space 

Left it to collect dust in the deep corners of my heart. 

Why? Not exactly sure. 

Words like…  

Overwhelmed & Vulnerable come to mind. 

It was all just a little too much. 

After all, creatives tend to be far more attached to their craft than we care to admit. 

What’s happened since the ink has dried? A lot… 

But here are the new things I have been feeling these last few months.

I am wearing this now. 

A perfectly tailored suit. Every stitch and hem is made for me. 

No longer a backpack I carry. 

Stuffed with the unrealistic expectations of my own motherhood. 

Sleep train. Don’t sleep train. 

You are a bad mother if you don’t breastfeed. 

No TV. 

Potty trained at two. “Lazy mother” if they aren’t. 

The list could go on but you get the idea.

I can’t say when it all shifted. 

When I took the backpack off. 

When I stopped carrying and started wearing. 

It just did. 

Obedience & Surrender come to mind. 

One would think that I would have learned this by now. 

Continuously reminded of my own humanity - man do we still think of ourselves more highly than we ought to. Humility pulling me closer to the heart of The Father once more. 

I remember the moment I felt that pull. The tugging on my heart when I heard Him whisper

 ‘it’s time…’  I didn’t know what to do with that information. I knew what it meant but a lack of direction mixed with a heavy dose of apathy… 

Well - apathy won. 

Is that an excuse? No. Do I regret my lack of inaction? No, not really. I have to believe His timing is perfect and He will finish the work He started in me. 

I am not sure what sufferings you have faced and I am no expert in dealing with my own. But I can say this..  

Feel what you need to feel and be angry when you need to be angry.

AND

When you feel the nudge that despite whatever suffering, sorrows or grief you have walked through that yes… it is time to move forward. That maybe, just maybe He is still far better than we could ever imagine. That He does have the ability to fill and heal every cracked and broken space within us. That He is good and holy enough to be trusted with moving forward and that He is the ultimate reward. The sting of loss will never leave me - his absence is felt often but it will not identify me. 

He is the author of this narrative. It is my heart's desire to love Him well.