To be raw and honest, ninety percent of the time it is so hard to believe in a calling.
The paper is blank on most days. Words do not always like to sit beside each other. Sometimes they fight. They throw a fit. The entire thing is a mess. I frantically spread myself everywhere like a stressed mother trying to get the kids ready for church on a Sunday morning.
I am not a good writer. I think I never was. Good thing the God I write for is not looking for qualified people, but is looking for people who are willing to be qualified.
Today was hard. I had to drag myself through pages of a book. I read a poem my brother made. It was good. So good. And he doesn’t even stress about writing. I read another article. The words on that one looked at home beside each other.
I am still waiting for my words to come home.
But; I keep reading and writing and telling stories – because I know the voice I heard, I know the echo of this heart, and I know who I do it for.