Landslide

I’m stealing a window of time to write something. Because writing something, a crummy draft of a something, is better than what I’ve done for the past year or so, which is barely write at all. So here’s 30 minutes, unedited, go.

Somewhere along the way, I lost my writer’s heart.The practical and imperfect realities of life created drought conditions in my soul. For what felt like forever all I did was take care of my kid or do work. I could see how I needed rest and play, but those felt as elusive as the rain.

The writer’s heart thrives when it is willing to play with words and worries little about how perfect the outcome will be.  Play and perfection are rivals.

The writer’s heart needs time to get ideas from the head out the fingertips and then stare at them and see them with one’s own eyes.

The writer’s heart beats to say something significant and say it with the words that make that something sound just like myself.

And the writer’s heart, I’m convinced, is tied to the everyday stuff of life to an inordinate degree.  So when that stuff isn’t working, the words won’t come.

Rain that comes during droughts creates landslides. The earth desperately needs the rain, and yet it is so dry and cracked that it bounces off and rolls down the hillside, jostling rocks and roots along the way.

In June, we moved from California to Illinois. As we have settled in, I’ve had the chance to rest and play; rain on the earth of my life.  The effect of adding rest and play back in to a life of all work has been like a landslide, a force that stops business as usual. I’ve been disoriented by the effects of these things–what is this I’m feeling?  Rested from a full night’s sleep?! What is this we are doing? Floating in a lazy river?! Well THAT sure is different.

The move has felt a lot like a long painful drought of a season ending in a flood of grace, and the resulting landslide is just what I needed. To remind me that my writer’s heart matters as much as my momma heart. My pastor’s heart matters as much as my wife heart. My heart matters.

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