The words that used to spring forth so easily are now a slow drip... drip... drip. They are an echo in a cave and I feel so... quiet.
It's not the first time this cease of flow has happened in my life. When I was little, all I wanted to do was hole up in my room and tap away my my gray electric typewriter-- writing God knows what, but feeling like if I didn't fill up some blank papers with ink, my heart would explode. Words brought me life and joy and I proudly told everyone I knew I was going to be a poet.
Somewhere in the trenches of middle school and high school, though, the words ceased. Over the years, I kind of forgot about writing. I remembered my dreams of poetry and would giggle at the silly little person I used to be. I was a grown-up now. I was going to be... I dunno... a journalist? How does my hair look and why hasn't Chris called me exactly when he said he would? And does anyone have any gum?
All it took was a little wrenching heartbreak to squeeze the words back out again. We broke up and got back together and broke up and got back together and broke up and got engaged and broke up and got back together. The words that got squished out of that chaos were raw and often had some music to accompany them- only to add melancholy to melancholy, you understand. Spiral ring notebooks saved my life then. I had to fill those blank pages with ink or my heart was going to explode. And God met me there in between those blue and pink lines. Those old notebooks are still my most prized possessions, because the ink preserved there literally brought me back to life.
But again, the words dried all up. I was a married woman. A rescued woman. And I'm supposed to cook food EVERY SINGLE DAY NOW?! I should probably buy a pan. I hate the grocery store. Also, can we have some babies?
We had Ezra and moved halfway across the country to a place where we only knew one person. I was a new mom in a new place and my family was now 20 hours away. It wasn't until a painful and lonely YEAR went by out here in Oklahoma that I remembered what writing could do for my sad, overwhelmed heart.
This blog was born that year. And once again, the therapy of writing saw me through, reminded me to laugh, and helped me sort myself out in a way that nothing else has every been able to do for me. The community and support I found here are a huge reason why I made it through those beginning years of motherhood.
And now? Now I am in a season of quiet, yet again. But this time, I am aware of the void. I am aware of what I am missing, and I feel it. I have been wrestling with God about the sudden lack... is it just time to lay it down until He calls me back to it? Do I struggle against the silence and force out words, even if there is no heart behind them? (Please, Lord... anything but that. Forced words for content alone make my skin crawl...) I want the heart! I want the joy! I want the words!
So, I pray for them. And I wait. Waiting on God is so very anti-cultural these days, yes? Maybe He is doing a new thing in me. Maybe I'm just strapped for time and energy at the end of a day of caring for three kids. Maybe this season of contentment and bliss makes for bad writing. Maybe I've said all the good things I had to say.
These last few months have been some of the best of my life. I am in a new home, out in the country, and I still have NO IDEA why God brought us out here. But I do know one thing: He brought us out here. And in these last few months I have come to know Him in a way I never dreamed possible. There is straight-up revival surging through my heart and how do I even begin to wrap words around such a thing? I don't understand it. I don't know when it began and I don't know how it continues day in and day out, but I am a very different person than I was even back in June.
Things are changing vocationally for my husband. Dreams are coming true. Heart dreams, yes, but also DREAM dreams. Like, dreams we had while we were sleeping. Dreams that made no sense at the time, but now do. I've been studying the book of Genesis weekly through an organization called Bible Study Fellowship (BSF), and it is flipping my whole world upside down. I feel like I keep getting saved all over again and when no one is looking I tend to dance around in my living room like a total goon. Because if I don't... my heart will explode.
GOD is becoming real to me, and everything else just seems to be taking a backseat to that for now. And although I long for the words to return, I am not afraid. I know that they will return, someday, somehow. They always have. What a sweet gift they have been in my life. What a source of healing and help in suffering and joy. I thank God for them, and I want nothing more than to honor Him through them, for all the days of my life.
ps. you can follow some of our more recent journeys via images on instagram- I post little snapshots there almost daily. my user name is emeryjo.