I woke up this morning with words heavy in my gut as I heated leftover biscuits for my tribe and gathered a week’s worth of laundry. Winter-ness feels extra thick and dark, despite the sun’s shine turning everything into icy drips.
Words inside pile up like dirty towels about grief and loss, about the fear of certain dreams being disappointed this week, and of simple words to define weary. The plan to clean up this particular mess is to pour out words on paper today, as a method of searching for the hidden treasure that lie beneath. The hopeful and expectant words that glow slightly below the surface of dirty lies that nothing good can be anticipated from these next string of days.
Also, I am sharing a story poem and a book quote because words have the power to reframe days destined for the dump. It’s why I read so much. It’s why I believe in the power of story. Consider word therapy to recalibrate the precious and holy moments of Monday.
smoky, mysterious presence
wrapping itself in cottony chunks around
house porches and strip pits and cattle herds
transforming a mindless drive toward town
into scenes of Scottish moors
into Kansas highlands where
lie just beyond the hedgerow
the sea but a smooth stones throw beyond
the baying of hounds come
rolling across fields into
our carriage of glass and metal
the flash of flesh and bone coyote
running wild as if the very
Baskerville breath itself was in
layer upon layer of wooly mist
makes driving dangerous
with its distracting beauty
the oncoming traffic
a menace, a hold your
this edge of surreality
turns ordinary workday into
a page from a forgotten, celtic storybook
I’ve been absorbing many words by Jennie Allen this year. In her book Restless as well as her writings and vision regarding IF:Gathering. Her words are definitely stirring the pot of complacency in my heart and in the hearts of women across the globe to the glory of our Father. Here is an excerpt:
“We are souls undone and rebuilt by the Spirit of God. As God surveys this earth, he sees light and darkness. And he see his light his Spirit wandering through neighborhoods, offices, schools, Wal-marts, Chick-fil-A playgrounds, and eating breadsticks at Olive Gardens. We possess God and are filled with him for the very same purposes that Peter, John, Paul, Mary and Luke in the early church were filled with him. We are filled with God to pour him into the darkness, pour him into broken souls who are starving for something.
“There are no average, small dreams, and no average people. There are no meaningless moments as we go to the gym or cook macaroni or handle shipping orders gone wrong or nurse our babies. If we were sitting across from each other and you pleaded with me–begged me–to believe you were average, your life was boring, there was nothing significant to anything you were doing, you could not convince me. You could not.
“Do you feel restless? There is more. A story too weighty and beautiful to bear. A story stretched out beyond ten million years from today.”