So I have been away for awhile, exploring and dreaming, but for all the world’s wonder, my first love pulls me back, and I must play with words again.
One of the things I have discovered about myself in this interim of quiet has been a deeply embedded fear of the power of my own words. I have worried about the potential for misunderstanding until my thoughts shriveled and my words dried up. Writing has always carried a burden of responsibility for me and fostered a need to choose words carefully and wisely. And so it should.
What I have learned in this period of silence, however, is that it is possible to take on a responsibility that is not mine. I must choose my words with intent, and I must consider the potential for misunderstanding, but I cannot bear responsibility for everything my readers bring with them to the encounter. I turn again to words I repeat to myself daily: “Perfectionism is the enemy of Grace.” And so, falling back into Grace, I pick up my words again. I pick them up with care and compassion, with intentionality, and yes, with imperfection. But I trust in Grace to carry them home safely to the hearts I long to touch. Amen.