I have always been a writer.  For most of my life I haven’t written for people to read.  I put pen to paper because I was made in the image of a God who used words to call this world into existence, and He used words to call me to Himself.  Before I was formed in my mother’s womb He breathed into me a mind and heart for reading and writing.  Out of all the talents He could have given He chose a spirit that yearns to take twenty-six symbols and turn them over and over again into pages of what I’ve never considered an ordinary story.  Once in a while, when I would let them slip out into the universe, people told me what I wrote was a gift and asked me if I would please do it more.   I’m just now barely brave enough to put my name on it.

 

 

 

Come after me. Meet me here again

Come after me. Meet me here again“Even when we don’t desire it, God is ripening.” -Rilke, The Book of Hours I, 16 I’m sitting here at my desk watching my cursor blink as I rub my tongue over the aching gums around tooth six. It’s become the razor on my wrist. It’s the place I can touch over and over to […] Read more...

Quote Queen

"Start with the soul and perhaps the temporal gifts I want to exercise will have their chance; and if they do not, I have the best in my hands already, the only thing really needed.  God must be in all my work."  --Flannery O'Connor

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1 Comment on Come after me. Meet me here again

  1. Lori Jean Whitaker
    July 20, 2021 at 10:05 am (3 months ago)

    I know this offering of words is painful. I am grateful for your offering to the world. I am grateful to know you, to carry a tiny sliver of all of it in my heart holding it out to Jesus. I love you dearly. He loves you most. Always & forever.

    Reply

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