Your Story

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. Psalm 45:1

I expose my inner most in my journals. I always have. From the time I learned to write complete sentences - words taking form on page after page became my voice - my heart cries to God.

Volumes of journals are filled with questions, pleas, joys, despairs, laments, petitions before the throne, wisdom from the truth of Scripture...it is God's story of my life.

I have learned that a lot of my questions will never be answered. I don't have to understand the why's to all the hurts and disappointments in life. Some prayers were answered, some were not. I've been given the beautiful gift of experiencing deep sorrows that offer a glimpse into a suffering that is holy and refining. I've experienced the elation of redemption, of new life. All of the "experiences," all the emotions...lead me back to one place - the deep well from which, my soul longs to drink from.

Through all the happenings that are telling in my journals, the bottom line (though I mostly wasn't aware of it) was that I was actually longing for another place - not simply a well to drink from but to be with the actual giver of Living Water. I've told my children that once I take my final breath, all those journals are theirs - they are free to browse through my years of wanderings. I will no longer need to run continually to the well. I will be dwelling, eternally, with the Giver of Life....my thirst will finally be quenched. I will be home.

Your story is not over. God is still working and doing more than you can ever know or see. Your story will be filled with pages that speak of your sorrow, pain, satisfaction, lonliness, anger, frustration, tears, and all those moments of joy....but they are mere pin dots on a vast page compared to all eternity.

I continue to journal, to blog, to write songs, to spill out my inner-most onto a blank page...perhaps someone else will be able to identify with the words that I give to the emotions they feel. Perhaps one will be encouraged when I am being vulnerable - hearing me say, I've been there too, I understand. All of my pouring out - since I was a little girl - have actually been my soul crying out - longing for that glorious place, the finish line of my race, my home.