It’s odd, this ebb and flow of words. As a writer, it seems they should always be ready at a moment’s notice–like small soldiers awaiting a command.
But I find they are more like children, easily distracted, often more interested in playing than working.
So I find myself this evening on the edge of words, as if sitting on the summit of mountain overlooking a vast, lush valley. I know there are endless sentences down there–stories to be told, insights to be shared, but for now they are out of my grasp.
This used to bother me, these times of waiting. I would work very hard to try to produce, to manufacture something, to call back my words from their games, give them a scolding, and set them firmly on the page again.
But now, under grace, I think I’ll let them play awhile longer. I like watching them, hearing their whispers, catching glimpses of them flitting through my mind.
And I’ve learned to trust them, these little words. For I know that when they are off and about it seems as if they are doing nothing but really they are gathering, learning, becoming, growing into what they will be when it’s finally time for them to leap from my fingertips.
I wonder about you and your version of creativity. Perhaps my words are dancing with your brushstrokes this evening, keeping time with your lyrics, wandering the world with your particular form of adding loveliness to this life.
Our creativity will make its way back, rest assured.
Yes, whatever Father has entrusted to our care always comes home to us again.
And we are better for its traveling.
p.s. Jenni Saake is doing a give away of my book, Rain on Me, on her blog Harvesting Hope right now. Stop by to check out her wonderful writing and leave a comment for your chance to win. For those of you who are fellow travelers on the journey of infertility, you’ll also be greatly encouraged by her book Hannah’s Hope.
