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on the power of showing up

note: I wrote this post in April of 2019 (pre-COVID). It's been sitting in my drafts for quite a while, but I think it's time for it to see the light of day. It's been helpful for me to reread over the past few months, especially as I continue to try to make an effort to write, and I hope it can be helpful to you, too. i got an invite to a writers' group a few months ago, and i had never felt like more of a fraud in my life. it had been months, if not years, since i'd felt like a writer. the proverbial well of words in my heart had dried up, it seemed, and i wasn't sure if it was ever coming back. i agreed to go out of a sense of helplessness—i'd identified as a writer ever since i could remember. if i'm not a writer, who am i?  i told myself that it was important to show up and act like a writer even when i didn't feel like one, because even though i hadn't been writing, i reassured myself, i still was a writer. but sometimes the words f

and it was so {a poem}

The ocean pounds against the sand.
Restless.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Prompted by the wind, the trees clap their hands.
Carefree.
Hopeful.
Longing.

The clouds drift across the sky, subject to the breeze’s whims.
Submitted.
Hopeful.
Longing.

The wind dances through the grass, riffling the blades like a sea of green.
Playful.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Like a sea of glass, the lake waits.
Quiet.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Suddenly, it happens.
Let there be light.
And there was light.

Creation spills from His fingertips.
They all have waited long for this moment.
The trees.
The seas.
The breeze.

Come into being, He whispers.
And it was so.

His world comes to life.
A brilliant landscape, straight from the mind of the King.

The ocean pounds against the sand, beating in tandem with His heartbeat.
Rhythmic.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The trees clap their hands in addition to the ocean’s song, enthusiastic applause for their Maker.
Joyful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The clouds drift through the sky, subject to the Creator’s whims.
Humble.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The wind dances through the grass, riffling through the blades like a green sea bowing in adoration.
Worshipful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

Like a sea of glass, the lake waits to reflect His image.
Peaceful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

Slowly, it happens.
God saw it, and it was good.
Creation begins to sing.
They have waited long for this moment.
The trees.
The seas.
The breeze.

My delight is in you, He whispers.
And it was so.

Comments

  1. "Prompted by the wind, the trees clap their hands.
    Carefree.
    Hopeful.
    Longing."

    Mm. I love it.

    ReplyDelete

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