Y’all know this girl doesn’t get out much. Y’all know my kids are nuts and we are in the weeds of toddler-hood here, which leaves no chance for cute clothes, clean floors, or quiet lunch dates.
What it does leave time for is perspective… and writing. Sometimes, the two of those things go together and I am able to form a coherent sentence… paragraph, even. Sometimes, my wires get crossed and I wind up speechless. It’s an awkward stage of life, I’m not going to lie.
God is good.
All the time.
A few diapers and one pregnancy ago, I was encouraged by a beautiful friend to write more. She asked if I’d consider popping in with a post here and there… my first adventure in writing for people who didn’t necessarily know me. Risky. It’s been an incredible exercise for me… a way to stretch parts of my brain that have been put on hold due to Motherhood. ‘Heartland‘ is just 5 of us, now, writing and talking and learning.
My very own ‘team.’
I may get my varsity letter after all.
Today is my day to write.
It starts like this:
He waited as our pastor introduced him… a young man, standing to the side of the stage. He wore a sharp, blue-checked button-down and khakis. Nice shoes. Cool glasses. He was headed off to lead missions in the public schools of Chicago, to follow the Great Commission, to begin a new life away from the church in which he’d been raised. He was young and handsome and, apparently, well-known.
As he began to climb the stairs and walk to center stage, it was obvious that there was more to his story. He limped. He limped as if he’d limped his whole life. Standing still, of course, you couldn’t tell. But as soon as he moved, well, there was a flaw. An obvious, mean-kids-on-the-playground kind of flaw.
I closed my eyes,
and my heart sank.
… continued HERE.