“But I can’t write anything other than my heart,” I frowned at the blinking cursor as I tried to come up with something witty yet unrelated to my passion for the garden.
But how is that possible when that’s where He speaks to me? How can I skim over such a love when the garden is where He led me during my season of dark days; a time when each ran together, one after the other, like a stream of muddied watercolors? Days when my words only happened across the page in scant doses; like beads dripping from a broken string.
She’s faded somewhat over the years, but I can still remember that bumbling housewife hanging out in her house, sort of depressed, sort of down, sort of a cup-half- empty kind of gal who had no clear vision beyond the four walls that enclosed her spirit and hushed her dreams. She went mechanically about her days, picking up, dropping off, cleaning, wiping, comforting, scrubbing and sweeping and only reading about a life of anything more. Soon, there was less distance between those four walls and her world felt small and insignificant.
That’s when He called me, that housewife, out of the shadows and into the light and gave me new purpose just beyond the squeaky garden gate. It was in those days of bringing my little space back to life after a season of neglect that somehow breathed new life in my heart and awakened my spirit…how can I not share that? It seems when I tap into the deepest parts of me, I pull from those days spent on my knees in the dirt with a garden trowel in my hand keenly aware of the voice of God heard above the trickling water fountain, the unexpected wing flutters of visiting golden finches.
Writing reveals the purist state of one’s heart, don’t you think? It tells the truth of it and reveals our motives. We can’t really pretend to be anything other than who He created us to be, whether in our words or our interaction with others, and that’s okay because you and I fill a space in this world that no one else is qualified to fill. We each have a particular purpose here. He’s given each of us a story to tell – our story, and I have to believe He honors our desire to write it only from the heart.
“So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the
pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service,
so that the body of Christ may be built up…”
(Ephesians 4:11-12) NIV
By: Debbie Dillon, Writin’ 4 Him