Waiting for the day
To release the stories brewing within;
Caught like dreams in a net
Submerged inside
To grow
To change
To be released
One day
When ears will turn
And eyes will see
What has been commissioned
To be hidden deep within.
Waiting until the day arrives
When my voice is released
And I will tell the tales
Of realities unknown
And stories of home.

November 11, 2010

Merry Christmas.

About a month ago, I was sitting in my living room, surrounded by my roommates. We were worshipping and praying and in the midst of it, they began to encourage me. They reminded me of this picture I’ve had for a while now of my family opening up a gift on Christmas morning – a book of short stories lovingly penned by yours truly. As fall began several months ago I knew completing this book would be entirely lofty, as I was beginning student teaching and time would be short.

There were many ducks I had hoped to be in a row before I launched this book. But in the end, as I thought about the words of my roomies to remember the picture I had and not worry about everything being perfect – I decided to just go for it. Honestly, I’m probably the type of person who could sit on this egg forever waiting for it to be perfect, and never get the ball rolling. And so here I am. Four weeks later. Thanks to the encouragement and sacrifices of some very dear sisters who prayed for me, helped edit, and design the cover, I have crossed the first finish line. I’ve finished student teaching. I’ve just about caught up on all the sleep I skipped over the last month trying to finish this project. And as I write, I’m about to tuck myself into bed after a Christmas day in which I saw my family carefully tear the wrapping paper off their new books. I saw it. It happened.

There were no fireworks. There was no fanfare. The moment passed quite quickly amidst the rest of the Christmas festivities. But I suppose at the end of the day I kind of felt like a rider in the pony express. I have journeyed far and delivered my package.

More to come…