voice. And you can use it.”
I don’t know if I would have even believed that message
ten years ago. But here we are—it has been a profound
honor to find and use that voice. I’m thankful every day to
be a writer, to work with words and ideas and sentences, to
get to tell the truth about the world as I see it.
But what used to be a highly charged need to scrawl out
my deepest, most honest, most intense and freighted truths
has become something else. I don’t need the same things
I’ve needed from it, along the way.
So if it isn’t about those things, why do it? If I wake up
in the morning, and live each day with a deep, soul-altering
awareness that I am loved just as I am, and that love is the
only true currency, then the laptop starts to gather dust, and
it’s terribly easy to curl up with an old novel, all drenched in
grace and contentedness.
Why do it? Because writing has become my love letter,
my way of telling the love story that’s changed my life.
What fuels me now is love. It’s slower and deeper, less
combustible and exciting. But it burns within my heart with
such warmth and crackle that I never want to go back to the
old fuel. The words come more slowly now, and the process
is less frantic and jittery, and I think that’s just fine.
grace
(Grace)
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