I have not written much for public consumption, but for private reflection. I have been quiet. I have been rebuilding, redefining, and re framing. At the soul level of who God created me to be is an artist. I have allowed so many voices around me to drown my own voice for so long. I allowed them to define who they all needed me to be to suite their needs, dreams, and wishes. I am an artist of words, and story. I am an artist of depth and design who has been shaped in order to shape and change the world around me.
As I read the works of Maya Angelo, still I rise. As I listen to books of beauty, 'The little Paris bookstore', 'The elegance of a Hedgehog', the words I have are not as pretty. They are not as elegant, but not insignificant either.
My life has meaning, and all will have the opportunity to hear my voice, my story, my heart.
This month my world is in a storm. A culmination of little parts all crashing into a masterpiece that will set the foundation for not only my future, but the future of my precious little people. I have a hope I have not felt for months, but also of fear for the unknown adventure my world will cause me to go into. As I am quiet I wonder which will rule, the hope or the fear. Maybe just like a storm as the clouds twist and turn to find the way through the wind, both hope and fear are supposed to walk together hand in hand. Twisting around each other to find a way through the wind of change and adversity in an attempt to not finalize the journey, but to be able to rest in the center with a quiet assurance.
