I have been talking about wanting to set up a blog so I could start writing again for months now. My husband listened kindly, encouraged me and agreed I should write. I used to write all of the time and loved the expression of creativity it gave me. It has been YEARS since I have written for pleasure.
This week Zack just happened to be participating in a creativity marathon of sorts. It’s called 7in7. Basically, you are supposed to create 7 pieces of art in 7 days. Go to create7in7.com to learn more. Anyway, he convinced me to join him in the challenge to jump start my writing again. So here goes. I’m going to start writing. It’s for me. If others read great but I really just want a space to record whatever I produce. I just want to write.
Here is Day 1 of 7:
This particular writing is from an experience I had just a few years ago when we lost one of our best friends. The feelings are still very real. Today, we found out that one of the members of our church passed away. We did not know him but I couldn’t help but think of his wife and family as I thought of Diana and the Fowlers not to mention the sting of my own heartache.
The Sting
In one simple yet intricately designed moment
You are strangely stung by the darkest of shadows
Maybe a thought had just made its rigid pathway across your mind
You may have even tasted joy or known the sweetness of a laugh
Unfortunately the words of devastation must come
The ones you thought impossible to hear
Instantly, prickling heat creeps up your body
Like a slithering serpent, sapping and squeezing out every hope
Every hope but One
Your heart takes a free fall, the cord snaps, you crash
You’ve lost it for now and maybe forever
It is the most intimate pain
Personal in every way
Consumed as if stuck under the barrel of a wave
Your well intended mind searches frantically for an alternative
There are none
You’ve lost your love
It took its last passionate breath with him
It feels like impossibility rules that throne and what a harsh king it is
The truth is
The morning sun crawls out of its nightly grave
The God fearing will too
Our one hope hangs on with valiant strength
The cup was entirely consumed
Resurrection was beautifully bought
We live
The sting removed
The ointment placed
Don’t fret
Healing is coming
The Cypress Scroll 
loving all this!