Writing On The Wall

I write what I've lived, what I dream to live, and most often, what I am currently living.

If I were honest about it all, ...well, ...it's messy people.

I'm a mess and life is a mess.

It would be easier to just make cookies, then tell you what is going on in my soul.


Last week I was over this blog thing.

It's a lot of work.

I seem to write best under the pressure of a deadline, while the dew is still hanging in the early morning air, especially long before the sun is rising.

It often feels unimportant and uninspired. 

I almost always doubt the value of what I have to say.

The voice in my head says,  "that sounds dumb."

I think thoughts about going back to college so I can get a grip on the English language. 

Or why don't I just do a food blog, - -those are wildly popular.

As if that's what my life is about,  
   - - being popular- -

Yes, one week I'm confidant that people's opinions are just that. 

Opinions.

Rejection comes cutting and my heart starts growing insecurities like monsters under the bed.

The "I's."
The "me's."
The "my's."

There is the core to my problem.

Anytime the focus goes inward, disaster is imminent.

And negative script kills creativity every time.


So, I'm sitting in my favorite chair, with my favorite cup of comfort at the freshest point of the day, staring at the wall. 

I'm staring right through the writing on the wall, when I realize the answer is staring me in the face.

In large, bold letters I am reminded of what is important.

More, I'm reminded of  Who is important.

I claimed it long ago as my "life verse."

(Do you have one?)

It just says, how I want to live. With my whole, heart, soul, mind and strength.

Years ago, I hand-painted it on my wall.

It's big and bold as I could fit on the wall and now I'm not even letting it sink into the fiber of my heart.

The verse really talks about being one-souled.

About keeping my eyes on the One, not the world.

This writing, being creative, this living, demands that I work past self. Somehow it is then, God can use all the stories I've lived, to point to Himself. 

It demands that (my) self gets out of the way so that the real message can flow through. 

And I have to take time to live a good story, so I can write a good story.


This is a prayer I wrote last  year. 

I go back and read it slow. 

"Oh, I want to be a Psalmist Lord..." 

This week I ran across a small jewel:  "..  a Psalm is a story of deliverance or a commemoration of mercies received.." 

Yes.

That is what this blog is about.

Stories of deliverance and mercies received. 

And life being lived out in relationship with those who cross my path and are open to connecting beyond the polite hello's.  

I had grandchildren this weekend. The oldest just lays on his tummy, legs splayed out, all relaxed. He asks me if I want to hang out with him, after the others have fallen asleep. He just had a birthday and said he wants to be ten, not five.

Yes.

Yes, I do want to hang out with you little man-child. I want to listen to your heart and your one-thousand deep questions, including how much gas does my gas tank hold.

And quit growing up so fast, please.

Over a decade ago, I wrote down the words from Isaiah 44:3: 

I will pour out my Spirit

on your offspring,

and my blessing

on your descendants.

When I wrote this in my journal, I felt it was a promise I could claim over my family. Before any of them were married or had children, God spoke that promise over my heart in a very personal way.

The writing on the wall, is the verse prayed back over my loved ones.

There are some verses, too, I feel that God gave me, that I am still waiting on to be true in my life, in my children's lives, in other peoples lives.

My family pictures haven't been updated, the clutter is stacking high and the color on the walls seems drab.

I'm getting ready to do a fresh new thing. Or should I say that I think the Lord is getting ready to do a fresh new thing in my life.


This little canvas is my inspiration. I have some other ideas too, I'll let you see them as they come about.

When the walls are freshly painted and I have a clean slate to work with, this verse keeps coming back to me.

Jesus said it all, when he said this, in John 14:6. (Read it here?)

"I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

Yes. It is etched on the wall of my heart and probably soon on my office wall too. 

And I pray that the rooms of my home and my heart will truly be established by wisdom and filled with rare and beautiful treasures. (Proverbs 24:3-4)

I pray that for you too friends. 

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