God has created a life story in each of us, and I seem more aware of this during the month of September when summer transitions into fall.
I look back and see that I rushed into June with expectation of the author event in the Black Hills known as Wild Deadwood Reads. The next event was July Fourth, but we were quarantined because hubby was recuperating from covid.
During the pause of July (readers can go to my August blog), I took part in calm activities. My plan for August was to begin my next writing project. I had an idea that had been floundering around in my head, but once the brainstorming time arrived, my mind was tossed upon a turbulent sea.
I circled back and forth between saved articles and notations in my ideas file. But I found it hard to land. Much like a tide, thoughts rushed, paused, and rolled. A dear friend had told me she didn’t care for my time travel (the only seed I had in mind) stories as much as my contemporaries. That comment ebbed and flowed on the shore of my thoughts.
Guilt entered the picture. Each day God gives us an assignment and it had been weeks since I’d carried out a writing task, except for a handful of blogs. The squares in my word count goal sheet remained empty.
During the writing of this post, an old song from my teen years came to mind. You might enjoy Ebb Tide by the Righteous Brothers. (Those years seem like a couple lifetimes ago.)
I look back and see that I rushed into June with expectation of the author event in the Black Hills known as Wild Deadwood Reads. The next event was July Fourth, but we were quarantined because hubby was recuperating from covid.
During the pause of July (readers can go to my August blog), I took part in calm activities. My plan for August was to begin my next writing project. I had an idea that had been floundering around in my head, but once the brainstorming time arrived, my mind was tossed upon a turbulent sea.
I circled back and forth between saved articles and notations in my ideas file. But I found it hard to land. Much like a tide, thoughts rushed, paused, and rolled. A dear friend had told me she didn’t care for my time travel (the only seed I had in mind) stories as much as my contemporaries. That comment ebbed and flowed on the shore of my thoughts.
Guilt entered the picture. Each day God gives us an assignment and it had been weeks since I’d carried out a writing task, except for a handful of blogs. The squares in my word count goal sheet remained empty.
During the writing of this post, an old song from my teen years came to mind. You might enjoy Ebb Tide by the Righteous Brothers. (Those years seem like a couple lifetimes ago.)
Much like the lover (or both Righteous Brothers) who penned those words, my heart is at peace. I just started writing, and the writing flowed. Once again, my God shelters me underneath His loving arms, and I continue to carry out the assignments He has for me.
They aren’t always writing tasks, but they are a page in my life story.
They aren’t always writing tasks, but they are a page in my life story.
Ephesians 2:10
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
God’s Workmanship
Created in Christ, we are
God’s workmanship
I work at writing
My works for Him
I am God’s WIP,
His work in progress
Unfinished writer’s work
Is a work in progress
The star of words
In my own story
Is a story written by God
Who’s not finished yet
We are God’s workmanship
Made for fruition of His plan
Made to bring Him glory
And so are my WIPs.
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
God’s Workmanship
Created in Christ, we are
God’s workmanship
I work at writing
My works for Him
I am God’s WIP,
His work in progress
Unfinished writer’s work
Is a work in progress
The star of words
In my own story
Is a story written by God
Who’s not finished yet
We are God’s workmanship
Made for fruition of His plan
Made to bring Him glory
And so are my WIPs.
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