Another Blank Page

A blank page.

It's terribly intimidating isn't it?

The cursor blinking loudly....  

over and over again. 

Every speech I've ever given a student about "it's easier to edit something than nothing" taunts me - incidentally to the rhythm of the blinking cursor - 

It might be easier. 

Unless you are the one that has to write the something. 

Cause then it's harder.

I have something to say, I'm sure.  

I am hurting and lonely and broken

and hopeful and loved and wanted

and sad and confused

and clear and purposeful

and trapped inside of my own head

and freed inside of my own heart

I am contradictions battling nearly constantly.

I always have something to say - something to work out - something to remember. 

But, I don't always know how to say it and I don't always know what is next.
The other day I asked God - please show me - please tell me - what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?  What is next? What do I do?

It's like that blank page - something is just around the corner. There is a next, another something coming, another "I should be handling this better."  More characters to meet, more plot twists to endure, more scenery to consider - more change. Just waiting on the next page. 

Maybe the mystery of life is captured in the essence of a story -  

It can feel intimidating like the white screen. 

The blankness of it. 

Full of potential -  

or pain - both equally unknown. 

Both to be found somewhere in the next lines. 

But, I don't get to choose my own ending.

I suppose however, that I do get to draft my own version - and, maybe I can write it how I want it to be - hope for something amazing and then offer it up and see if the great Editor throws in a plot twist or two.

And, as I live His changes and process what is unfolding, I can grieve over the lost pages from the story that I thought we would write. And, as I grieve, I can remember that I offered Him my pages because I trust Him. I know Him. And He is good. And He loves me. 

And then, I get to keep engaging, keep writing - keep hoping - keep dreaming.
Keep asking.
What is next?
What do I do?  What is Your will?

And I get to keep remembering that He will show me.
One step. One sentence. One great adjective at a time. I will know.
And, He will be working His glory onto every page.

I suppose at times it will take me several chapters before I understand where we are going.
I suppose sometimes, even though He shares His will with me, I will be arrogant, and believe that because I get to sit at the keyboard, I know better what should go there - and I won't throw away the pages He is asking me to.
And I suppose He will use them, in His way, as part of the greater story He refuses to give up on.

I suppose sometimes I will have writer's block and there will be stages where nothing goes on the page - just the blinking cursor mocking me, daring me to write something - anything. And, I suppose one slow, hard word at a time I will try to get back in the game - back in the groove. And I suppose He will be waiting for me, patiently letting me sort it out.

I suppose sometimes I will write courageous and hopeful and colorful chapters into my story and sometimes I will dance in the inspiration of it all.
And I suppose other times, I will write out the pain that I can't deal with any other way.

And, when the Editor changes a chapter that I thought was unfolding into something awful - and He turns it into a glorious ending that I could not have even dreamed up - I suppose I will sit with those pages clung tight to my chest in awe of the One who has more words than I could even conjure. And I suppose with everything inside of me, I will thank Him, though my words will never feel quite enough.  

Maybe my pages will mean something to someone that is staring at their own blank page.
Afraid to put the wrong thing down, or too stubborn to understand that with the loving craft of the Editor - their story could be so much more.
Maybe someday, someone will recognize that I could have never written that story by myself, 

never thought up that change or found a way to make all of these cracks and bruises work together into something so beautiful and honest.  Maybe they will know that any story like that, must have been touched and crafted and held - by Him. 

Him.  The ultimate storyteller.
His. An inspiration unlike anything else. 

Every page is a white blank space full of unwritten hope. Unwritten hope that points to His grace, His love, His reality - Love and Truth that is evident on all of our pages; the pages that acknowledge Him and the pages that don't.

Your today is probably not the way you would have written it - but don't stop writing it. Write from where you are and offer Him your messy rough draft - full of scribbles, and run-ons, and half sentences - full of hope and dreams. Because as you breathe, your story is not yet complete. And dear friend, as you live, your best is still to be written.