If there is anything that I have learnt from this heart and soul journey it is that the journey can take longer than expected, is often confronting and always stretches you beyond the borders of your expectations.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Four years ago, falling into the world of blogging was that first faltering step. I didn't really know what I was doing then. Driven along by some deep need to liberate the incessant deliberations of my soul, I began to tap out a story that has evolved slowly over time. Writing is good like that, kind to your emerging self. Life pushes on, but writing, writing waits for you, allows you to go back, make changes and if necessary begin again. A fresh page, waiting for you, allowing soul stirrings to be crafted into radiant beams of hope.
Writing hasn't always been a clear cut process. There are times I have sat in front of the keyboard with stirrings so deep, and no words forthcoming, no words to appropriately clothe the pressings against my soul. In those moments, I would wait. I learnt to be still, to close my eyes to the world and listen to heart whispers from within. Embracing the Selah moment allowed small miracles to occur, wondrous moments of contemplation rose slowly from the vortex of feelings and emotions bubbling inside, releasing itself in a string of beautiful delightful words. And oh how I love words!
Writing has been a therapeutic process, both healing and purifying. It has been health to my heart and soul. When Life is measured by deadlines, it has been a soft place to fall. It has consented to the fierce scribblings of hope across my existence, permitted the deep etching of purpose upon barren terrain and opened up a whole new world of possibilities. It has carefully carved out a space between now and then, between that which is not yet and that which is to come. Writing has given permission to a faltering voice. Hopeless life fragments have been wound in glorious threads of grace, and into a wholly intentional, holy purposeful plan.
After my first trip to Africa momentum suddenly stalled, direction evaporated and for three and a half long years it all went quiet. I wasn't sure what the next step was or how to take it. There was so much in my heart that I longed to do. I went back to life, to my quiet unassuming mother-teacher life and I thought that was it. I had done my African soiree and had my fill of adventure. In those three and a half years I waited for some sort of epiphany. Direction was not forthcoming.
I waited expectantly and then despondently. I kept writing, gleaning and growing. I sifted my heart and evaluated my soul. I waited for the faith seed to take root. I worked hard at being a loving mother and dedicated teacher. I wondered about the threads of the story, my story, and couldn't see them coming together. I endured the hanging threads and persevered as they continued to dangle tauntingly.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Four years ago, falling into the world of blogging was that first faltering step. I didn't really know what I was doing then. Driven along by some deep need to liberate the incessant deliberations of my soul, I began to tap out a story that has evolved slowly over time. Writing is good like that, kind to your emerging self. Life pushes on, but writing, writing waits for you, allows you to go back, make changes and if necessary begin again. A fresh page, waiting for you, allowing soul stirrings to be crafted into radiant beams of hope.
Writing hasn't always been a clear cut process. There are times I have sat in front of the keyboard with stirrings so deep, and no words forthcoming, no words to appropriately clothe the pressings against my soul. In those moments, I would wait. I learnt to be still, to close my eyes to the world and listen to heart whispers from within. Embracing the Selah moment allowed small miracles to occur, wondrous moments of contemplation rose slowly from the vortex of feelings and emotions bubbling inside, releasing itself in a string of beautiful delightful words. And oh how I love words!
Writing has been a therapeutic process, both healing and purifying. It has been health to my heart and soul. When Life is measured by deadlines, it has been a soft place to fall. It has consented to the fierce scribblings of hope across my existence, permitted the deep etching of purpose upon barren terrain and opened up a whole new world of possibilities. It has carefully carved out a space between now and then, between that which is not yet and that which is to come. Writing has given permission to a faltering voice. Hopeless life fragments have been wound in glorious threads of grace, and into a wholly intentional, holy purposeful plan.
The unfolding of that plan came slowly. Sometimes there are seasons of waiting, sometimes the seasons are drawn out and it seems that little growth occurs, the faith seed taking longer than anticipated.
I waited expectantly and then despondently. I kept writing, gleaning and growing. I sifted my heart and evaluated my soul. I waited for the faith seed to take root. I worked hard at being a loving mother and dedicated teacher. I wondered about the threads of the story, my story, and couldn't see them coming together. I endured the hanging threads and persevered as they continued to dangle tauntingly.
Then, as abruptly as it stopped, the faith seed sprang to life wrapping those dangling threads securely around the hold on my heart. I cannot really explain what it was that got the ball rolling again, only that it did. They say timing is everything, perhaps they are right! It took just one image to begin the next step, one picture posted on Instagram that made me search out a website. When the right opportunity presented itself there was a quickening that couldn't be stuffed down by the voice of reason. That voice, the faith voice, knows things you can never work out in this lifetime. When you learn to trust it, it takes you places you could never imagine on your own.
I looked at the image on the screen and googled the website. Hope Global was looking for volunteers, their mission - to restore hope and justice to countries affected by war, genocide and poverty. 2014 would mark twenty years after the Rwandan genocide and they were taking a team in to mark the occasion. I sat there with expectation rising, the application form before me ... and began typing.
My bags are packed, the ticket is perched patiently on my suitcase.
Today I take the next step in the journey of a thousand miles.
I looked at the image on the screen and googled the website. Hope Global was looking for volunteers, their mission - to restore hope and justice to countries affected by war, genocide and poverty. 2014 would mark twenty years after the Rwandan genocide and they were taking a team in to mark the occasion. I sat there with expectation rising, the application form before me ... and began typing.
My bags are packed, the ticket is perched patiently on my suitcase.
Today I take the next step in the journey of a thousand miles.
