I've always loved to write. As long as I can remember I've been filling notebooks with thoughts, prayers and dreams. There has never been a shortage of words. It's free therapy really. For some reason things seem to make more sense when I can get them out of my head and onto paper. There's a semblance of order that begins to happen as the words flow...like a painting taking shape at the hands of an artist.
But then there are times when the pain is so real that there are no words. There is simply no way to make order out of chaos. Things just need to sit for awhile; to settle. Thankfully, time has a way of helping us regain a bit of perspective; perspective that's important for putting things into words once again.
Our family is walking a hard road right now. A road that I am not ready to put into words. I know at some point the Lord is going to use our story for His glory as He brings beauty from the ashes, but the words aren't ready just yet. They're in there, tumbling around and being refined, but they're not ready...I'm not ready. And that's OK.
It's more than OK, because it's our story. You can't tell an artist what to paint or a writer what to write anymore than you call tell someone what their story SHOULD look like.
One thing I know to be true - God is faithful. He sees our journey from beginning to end and He has a plan in it all. Of that I am certain...and every so thankful.