How I got here and why.

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

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