Lord, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
3 I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care. Psalm 88: 1-5
Lord, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
3 I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care. Psalm 88: 1-5
I stir lemonade,
Sigh and wipe my weary brow.
I wax thankful then
As summer solicits for
The seasons’ warrant.
Rake the leaves. I’ll burn
This body to dust, if that
Is what it takes. I’ll
Do it gladly. My heart is
Woven in the mountain skies.
I am winter’s snow.
You will find me in the work.
No matter how dark it
Gets, I will be the finger
Which pulls the thread no one sees.
In Secret Spring’s green
I snip the weak threads. I break
The mirror. I sweep
The pieces into place. Glimpse
Reality’s tapestry.
I am not the year
Nor a season, month or day.
I am but minutes
Who work the threads leading
To the finished work, God’s hand.
As they make music they will sing,
“All my fountains are in you.” Psalm 87:7
I am sitting here in my new home office (which is the same as my old home office just with less junk). I have been poring over story details and thinking about my writing process this afternoon. For those of you who are theologians I am a Wesleyan Armenian not a Calvinist which in layman’s terms just means, if I am asked to choose between the idea of fate and free will I am going to lean towards free will every time. I am not a big believer in the idea that you cannot escape your fate. I am a big believer in the idea that you get to play a part in your destiny.
That said when it comes to the writing process, as I put pen to paper it feels more like I am just uncovering a story that is already written, not creating something new. The story is new to me, but I feel like it has been floating around in the spirit realm somewhere just waiting for someone to stumble upon it and give it form. I almost feel fated to write this thing….and so you see my problem.
Does anyone else feel this way as they put their own pens to their own pieces of paper? I anxiously await your input.
Glorious things are said of you,
city of God:[a]
4 “I will record Rahab[b] and Babylon
among those who acknowledge me—
Philistia too, and Tyre, along with Cush[c]—
and will say, ‘This one was born in Zion.’”[d]
5 Indeed, of Zion it will be said,
“This one and that one were born in her,
and the Most High himself will establish her.”
6 The Lord will write in the register of the peoples:
“This one was born in Zion.” Psalm 87:3-6
Lillie-Put 