So I’ve been given the go-ahead

Over the past three weeks or so, I have told asked those closest to me if they would be praying about the Lord’s will for my writing. I think I have made an idol of it in the past. It was one of those things I wasn’t willing to sacrifice to my God. But a few months ago he brought me to that Abrahamic place; the place of laying my dreams and my hopes, even the ones I believe he had given to me, on the alter for sacrifice.

And I did. More fully than I have ever before in my life; I surrendered. I said, “God! If I never write another word again, that’s okay! I trust that you have good plans for me; ones that are better than the plans I have for myself. I trust that you are sufficient for me. That you will bring fulfillment in my life as I walk in obedience to you.” For two months I sat in the peaceful silence that surrender brings. And then, I felt him nudging my dreams back to life.

I was afraid; I know that he’s a jealous God. He says, “YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME.” And I am learning to grow in my fear of Him. So I asked a few people that I trusted to all pray for me, that they would seek the Lord on my behalf. And I told God, that I only want to write if it is what he has for me in this season.

I was given the go-ahead Unanimously.

I realize that it is not a right, to write. It is a gift.  So even though I have started writing again dear reader, remember that I am still the mother of two very small children. I am still the wife to one hard-working engineer. I am still as domestic as they come with unending piles of laundry and plans for dinner to be made. I am still a daughter, a sister and a friend. And if in the middle of my crazy life; if in the cracks in time I find some space to write a line or two; I will be thankful. And that will have to be enough for you too for now. I can’t promise anything about consistency. I can’t promise every post will be equally profound or riveting. I can’t really promise much of anything.

Except perhaps that I will be present in my own life; and writing will now be at least a small part of it.


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