Watt's Well

Room to Be, Space to Create

Tag: story

Candles upon cake

He does not manage us, to-do list us, or bullet-point us. He loves us. Is with us. And believing him feels impossible, until we do, like a miracle, like lukewarm water turning merlot red right there in the cup. And hope sprouts new, because God doesn’t give us a list. He invites us into the story.

-Emily P. Freeman, A Million Little Ways

This one has felt unusual, like a comma connecting two different ideas.  It doesn’t feel monumental nor extravagant.  But it feels like a pause, a gearing up for another long stride.

It is my birthday.  My personal New Year’s day.

This morning I sat cozily under my nap blanket with a piping hot mug fitting just right in my hands.  I read the quote above by my favorite blogger.  It grabbed me and pulled me in to listen closer.

I tend to look back over my life and compartmentalize seasons.  I shove 2-3 years in a cubby, as those years threaten to come bursting out onto the floor.  Labels hang above each square, generalizing its contents.

Its a system that fails me often, as pieces do not always stay in their proper place.

In a moment of silence this morning, with coffee as my witness.  Thankfulness sprang out of my heart and washed over my head and down to my feet.  Not the kind of washing that comes from emotional hormones or warm fuzzies, yet a washing that comes from the Spirit.

And in a brief moment all of my personal history was strung together in one note.  In one sentence. And this here, this day, feels like one glorious small comma leaving room for what is yet to be written.

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Oils blend, smearing into one another, causing art to appeal to the senses.

Last year I wondered and I desired for what was to come.  All I knew was that change was coming. But this? Different job, pursuing another degree, and regaining old ground in a new way.

Yea, you can’t make this stuff up.

I hadn’t a clue. But He had laid the colors. He took his thumb rubbed it across the canvas and smeared the scene into place.

We live one continuous journey.  All our stories worth telling.

What is He creating in your life?  And are you willing to let Him blend the pieces together in His perfect way?

“Fearless in Love”

These waters are unstable, roughly unpredictable.
A keen eye should be kept to the bow.
Hand clenched on the side of the wooden vessel,
for a moment i take in its grain, its make.

Been in such waters before.
Her sail let loose in a slap,
took more than one pair to wrestle that white.
Even now something unexpected begins to stir.

Out in the distance a figure,
a man. My heart least expects,
Kind eyes I see, in the midst of violent waves.
Smiling soft lips move to his calm words.

I’m drawn, compelled.
Calm down oh soul, what if
its not him. Yet he waits.
Welcoming me to join him among the shifting waters.

Tides and waves, boats and sails;
what are you compared to this love.
No mind do I give you,
for you are nothing compared to.

Rise I do. Hand free of wooden barricade.
Look these feet walk over too. It is He I see.
Yet what if these eyes deceive me.
The wet I feel all around me.

Rough hands to which I do cling.
Oh yes it is surely he.
Lovingly he raises me,
and together we dry in the hull.

A Starbuck Story

Stepping over the threshold under green awning
familiar rhythm and song, unique territory.
Experience and Knowledge back me,
Culture runs through these veins,
fresh atmosphere I breath in.

Just as those old ones,
these walls are pregnant with a story to tell.
A waft of bold aroma enlightens the senses,
carrying me back to day one.
Being welcomed into a community of artists and influencers.

That place of beginnings held many journeys.
An addict no longer held down,
a gang of grey haired men enjoying company,
a restaurant owner doing business and family,
an evening dweller in search of a friend.

Lite frothing sounds allure me back.
These unfamiliar walls encase story as well.
There’s a faint salt smell as the door swings shut.
Buzzing in the corner amidst students,
and a pure intent seen in the faith man scribbling away.

If these walls could speak,
I’m sure they’d tell a tale,
of lives impacted by artists and influencers.
Now joining those, faintly the walls whisper,
And Im sure I heard my name in the chatter.

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