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i had no idea how to write a book. when I say “no idea” I literally mean, I had NO idea.
I had this dream, this idea, and I didn’t even know what on earth it would be or should be or how it would be. I just knew that I needed something to happen. I needed to crack open my heart, I needed to get the words out of me.
About a month later, I had a dear friend whisper words of encouragement to me during our early morning runs. And then another as she thumbed through my hand sketched drawings and scribbled paragraphs. She believed in me even as I stumbled over my words and down played the powerful push that I was feeling to jump into the unknown. The final straw was my husband, unsure of what I was really going to do, or why I needed to do it, wrapped me in a tight hug and told me he would support me 100% and that I could do it. He looked me right in the eye and I knew he meant business. He believed in my crazy.
And with that. I jumped.
i started studying scripture. I started searching for light. I lettered every single word that spoke to my heart. I poured out that broken heart onto those pages, I wrestled with truth until I believed it again. I splattered the pages with deep empathy, and cancer, and messy thoughts about love, forgiveness, and faith. When words came, I sat and wrote. 3am. 6am. During dinner. During naps. With babies on my lap.
If you’ve read it, it’s pretty clear that I had no idea what I was doing, but now that I look back on it, that’s the magic of it. I wasn’t writing for a publisher. I wasn’t seasoned at putting my thoughts together, I wasn’t pulling at any heartstrings or trying to convey something that wasn’t there.
It’s just me. A girl. trying to make sense of life, of love, of faith, of god, of grace, of hope, of inspiration the only way I knew how. In letters and words.
I never imagined that I’d find god so purely during such a mess of emotions and thoughts and words. I never imagined that the very messy middle of those months could turn into something so…. real. Those months were the messiest of my whole life. They were a “make or break” kind of middle. when you’re in the middle of a dark tunnel and you can only see a small sliver of light up ahead, but at times its disorienting and scary.. but you keep walking toward that little dot of light anyways..
Slowly, over the course of writing the book… the little sliver of light became bigger and bigger.
Here’s the thing, it wasn’t the book. It wasn’t the lettering even.
It was grace. It was the spirit that wrapped me in hugs on a regular basis. It was little nudges towards the exact scripture I needed. A sunrise that takes your breath away. A small group of people who stood beside me and let me lean on them when I couldn’t do it anymore. It was a messy faced smile from one of my children. It was music that calmed my troubled soul. It was moments, beautiful moments, tender mercies, gifts from my Father in Heaven. Those moments were woven into the mess.
that mess bends us, it stretches us, it makes us reach, and grow, and sometimes it knocks of flat on our backs. Sometimes its tears, and confusion. Sometimes the mess is like thick fog and we’re just not sure where we are. But the sun sets, and it rises, and god is always there. The power of our Savior Jesus Christ’s atoning grace is real.
That grace is all around us. It isn’t a far off finish line. It isn’t something you have to win, or attain. It’s right next you, even right this second. It’s for that moment in your closet. It’s for the middle of the night, or alone in your car.
Grace saves and grace changes. It reaches our reaching.
So reach. If you’re in the mess, that’s okay. Embrace it. Because out of the mess is where ashes are turned into fires again. Fires of faith and hope. It’s where we find god. It’s where we find love.
We’re all a mess. welcome to the club, it’s a good one. :)
