I have coffee, tea, and even wine if you'd like, makes no difference to me. If you are hungry, my fridge is full of leftovers, but I can easily whip up some pasta and my meatballs and sauce for you. Did I tell you the bread is homemade?
My table seems to always have someone sitting at it. Sometimes for eating, sometimes creating.
My kids will be running around, showing you their dolls, their toys, their books, their pictures. I hope you don't mind.
I have something to share with you, but you'll have to listen close to hear.
I have only this home, this place. I have no platform. I have no tribe. Just a handful of people who love me, believe in me, and speak life to me. My words aren't shouted from the rooftops. And maybe they aren't meant to be.
But I do have words to share. And sometimes they'll be quiet. Sometimes just a whisper. But I'm writing myself out of the darkness. I'm writing myself through the brokenness. I see hope. I see redemption.
Rescue. Rekindling. Renewal. Rebirth.
I see the light placed inside of me by my Creator. And I see the light inside of you. I see the things that He has put in you.
You were born to serve the Lord. You have been knit together by the Creator of the Universe, and that creativity flows through your veins and I see it in you. I see the ways your eyes shine when you talk about that thing inside of you. I want to hear it all.
I will listen to the ones we call voiceless. I will take the time to hear their story.
And I'm going to love you with my Momma's heart, because that was what I was born to do.
And I'm going to tell stories.
I will tell stories of my God. How He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, and He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; Many will see and fear and trust in the Lord. (Psalm 40)
I will tell stories of children shaking the Heavenlies.
I will tell stories of the places we've traveled the people we've met, and the Kingdom breaking through.
I will tell stories of this city full of both life and death.
I will tell stories of healing - body, mind, and spirit.
I'm going to keep talking, keep sharing the words birthed inside of me, even if it's just a whisper that no one seems to hear.
I'm tired of letting myself feel less than. Tired of feeling not good enough.
I'm not going to measure my worth by the number of followers, page views, or comments.
I'm going to let hope shine through this brokenness.
All glory, all honor, all praise to You.
All Sons & Daughters: Wake Up
On Wednesdays, I link up at Emily Wierenga's place for Imperfect Prose, a celebration of redemption. Join us there?