washed in white

The sky cracks open and spills out grace.  And in a season when the world wears black and exalts darkness, God sees fit to wash it all in white.  I wrap up warm and skip the morning sessions to go and stand in wonder and be washed too.

Here I am with several hundred word weavers in a conference about writing life, serving fresh bread and laying down on the only platform Jesus ever embraced: the cross.

It is a time when revelation falls like unexpected snow.

In the midst of an event filled with meetups and business cards, I find I really am an introvert.  I crave hiddenness and deep connection. One-on-one coffees fill my soul, but buzzing rooms empty me out.  And. that. is. OK.

Even like a fish trying to swim in sand, stretched out, laid bare, I find permission.  To be.  To immerse myself in Him Who IS the Word so that my words hold and offer Who He is.  I can only give what I have.  I find permission to live internally even in an external world of social media and twitter strategies.  To skip sessions to stand beneath a sky split open reminding me of Him Who bleaches my scarlet places in love.

In this community of shared journeys and interwoven stories,  I marvel at His creativity.  A room filled with daughters as unique as the frozen lace hanging in the trees around me.  And tonight when all is being packed up and processed for transit, I too am chronicling the love letters from Papa’s heart to mine this weekend, ever grateful for space to see through to Him in the cracked places that pour out heaven.