It feels rusty. It feels like coming back to a place you once called home, where you curled up on the couch and wrapped blankets around your legs and let your soul settle.
This little blog space doesn’t seem to fit right. I’ve been gone, for a while. I took November off and I was silent here. If I’m going to be honest, I was silent in a lot of places. My journal didn’t see much sunlight and my God waited patiently for me to start speaking.
And now that month is over, and I’m back, and here I am, time to write again, and it feels so right but also so wrong.
Maybe I’m just out of practice. Maybe I just need to do it, to keep doing it, to pound these keys and pour the words out and over time, it’ll fit right again. The couch will recognize my body again and this blank page will look like home again.
I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, in that mad month of every day writing – when I hit publish on so many things that probably, certainly aren’t my best writing without fear – and in that month of stillness. But I’m afraid, I think.
I’m afraid that my writing won’t be good enough. That my words aren’t good enough. That my dreams, dreams that I realized and let into my heart – won’t ever be reached. That I’m not good enough to reach them.
But I guess it’s not really about that, it’s never been about that. It’s not about being good enough. It’s about me and words and questions. It’s about puzzling out my heart, myself. It’s about sentences so beautiful I want to sink into them. It’s about asking and seeking and searching. It’s about broken hearts and healing and finding.
I’ll find my way home again. I’ll keep asking and seeking and searching, and the words will come.
it’s Friday, and for the first time in a while I’m joining in with Lisa-Jo Baker again for Five Minute Friday. five minutes, one word, no editing.