I am used to writing from a place of abundance. When the chapter is closed and all editing is done. When all I have to do is look back on God’s goodness, and bask in it, and tell the story.
Today I am writing from ground zero. From this shack I’m forced to call a home. From finances that don’t allow for growth. From isolation and loneliness. From all the rats and all the pests. From random bursts of anxiety that come from the fear that maybe this is where my life peaks. From having no name for myself. From the quiet. From the noise. From where redemption is out of sight, yet, but we live by faith, don’t we. God is merciful to bring me here. God is wise. God is kind. Even in nothingness. Even in closed fists. Even in unbearable silences or lack of words or shallow breathing.
Even here, God is good.