Those of you who visit with me on my Facebook page may know that I’ve been working on a book. A rather emotional book. One that was an absolute joy to write. It stirred things in my heart that I didn’t even know existed. It was an incredible experience… but as a mommy of 3 little ones and virtually no “office time”, it also had me setting my alarm at 4:50 every day. If I could get properly awake by 5:00, that would give me two hours of writing before the kids woke up and we began our day together. So needless to say, it was an experience both physical and emotional.

But as a writer–one who aches to tell stories… love stories–it was glorious. 

And in a way, as I gently and tenderly set the story on the shelf… it was also bittersweet. Lean in and I’ll share with you…

It all came to a close just as Christmas was rolling around. It had me sitting down in a quiet corner, simply looking out and watching. Soaking in the joys of the season. Listening to new-found memories of loved ones, seeing all the pictures on Facebook. Curling up with my kids reading old, old books, and watching movies with my husband. There may have been fondue involved at some point.

All the work I had done prior, combined with all this taking in and resting…had me short on words. Quite short on words. Rather feeling like I just didn’t have any left. It was like my heart was sleeping. Resting. Savoring. And I didn’t know how to put it in action. I tried to revive it, truly I did. I knew I had blog posts to write and other things to get to, but there I was, still savoring the dim, quiet.

Weeks have since passed and here it is Monday morning and tomorrow, when you’ll be reading this, I’m determined to get a blog post up. I told the Lord that I just don’t know what to write about. I’ve tried a hundred times it seems and each one has been deleted. Yet if there’s one thing I’ve learned about writing, especially when the words just can’t be found, it’s this: go to the truth. Find the truth and you’ll find the words. So there it is, the truth. My sleeping heart.


I tend to be a busy girl. If things are happening, I like to help them along. If nothings happening, I like to fill the space with what I can. But then there are those moments–perhaps you’ve had them too?–when you simply have to wait. You’re nestled between so many unknowns and you simply have to be still and be patient.

So you slink down. At first you worry, perhaps there’s even a bit of sorrow. This being settled in one spot is not what you’d been working toward, praying toward, pouring your heart out for. But here you are.

One of the greatest lessons God has me learning is to be okay with that. To be ok with simply waiting quietly. Trusting. Patience. Joy-regardless. The moment I stop thrashing around, the moment I simply look up from where I’m at and remember, remember, that He has it in His hands. This marvelous plan of His might not look like I would have done it, but oh, it’s so much better.

It’s here that I feel the lessons He’s planned for me. For me to let go and simply trust.

And then, there it is.

Some glimmer of light. It’s not much, but oh, I see it. A new opportunity. A new direction perhaps? A burst of hope, just out of reach, but drawing nearer. I look up at the Lord, a soft question of– May I? May I dream? Maybe even put a few words onto the page?

Always. He says, always.

I promise not to fidget too much there where I’m sitting, but I do pull out paper and pen and while feeling the warmth of that hope on the horizon, I put words onto that paper. They scribble out, a story of my heart. I don’t know all that it’ll become and I don’t know that it’ll become anything at all, and I never expected to write it, never thought the opportunity would come, but with that glimmer of something warm and feeling oh-so-right, I wonder if it’s not simply a gift from the Lord. His beautiful way of saying, thank you, child. For waiting and trusting.

All the while, as the story pours out, I know that somewhere along the road, I may end up folding this up, tucking it away as the season of trust and rest and quiet and uncertainty continues. But even through that, I’ll cherish this gift. This little spark. This opportunity to write…and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches….to story board…and wipe my little one’s tears…

Each season is a gift. Each one has it’s ups and downs and I want to continue to cherish each moment as they come. And to keep trusting that God has it all in His hands.

Let’s chat: When you are in a time of waiting and unknown, what keeps you going?