There are days that remind me why I put pen to page and scroll words across dates and capture time itself. I write to catch moments and in the catching hold them sacred. And in the holding seek to understand. Maybe not all, but more.
Today arguably one of the greatest voices in contemporary literature went on to heaven, but yet her voice lives on in her letters and lines sprawled across pages and decades. Her words that captured time and held her world sacred so we too can understand. Poverty and violence and pain. Persistence, triumph and joy.
Tonight she reminds me why I write. It isn’t to produce a masterpiece, but rather to master the pieces of my world and see them be woven into something that reveals Him in the weaving. He is Poetry. He is Story. He is Song. And there is no beauty that is true and pure that has not first been born in His heart. For He only gives good gifts.
When our Father wanted to communicate the full expression of His Love, He sent us a Word. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. He could have sent us a photo, a song, a mathematical equation. But He chose to send us His Word. The Word became flesh, pulled on our skin and struggles. The words in our lives that matter most are always the ones that become flesh… in our struggles, in our victories, in our walking through the seasons.
Even when our focus is eclipsed by loss and trials that stretch faith and patience so thin it seems to disappear.
Masterpieces are written from the pieces of our journeys we allow Him to become Master of and us with them.
I write because I want to leave a legacy that will outlast me, His Story told in a life that has been loved beyond herself.
What could God do with a life fully yielded to Him?
I want to know. I want to live the answer, writing brave love on the earth moment by moment. Bold and real. Messy. Unafraid. Because I cannot learn to fly without first risking the fall. And I was made to fly. So were you.
I can only pray that this story of mine will be one that shows a little bit more of what yielding can look like. A signpost for what can be. Faith among pieces, trust even in ashes, words strung in silence holding hope out brave, the testimony of His heart-aching beauty beyond.
And one day when I no longer am here. It will be these words, I leave behind.