The Pen

I know the power of it, but I don’t always use it.


I don’t know why?  Why do I want to hinder the process so?  My growth process. My revelation process. My process towards the discovery of a new source of a smile.


Putting pen to paper is like walking down roads and experiencing life and learning lessons.  It is how I am connected to the answers of many questions floating around in my head.

Writing about something brings it under a microscope and seeing it for what it is…and isn’t.

It is also how He guides me and makes me wiser.  Because that is how we talk.  And I am eternally thankful for this particular way of communicating with Him.  As I write about my toughts and troubles, He comes and replaces the question marks with exclamation marks.  He puts full stops at the end of thoughts that have troubled many a dark night.

And then i have His perspective on paper.  Not to be lost, but to go back to and enjoy.  Its like reading about the adventure…or finding the facts I am in dire need of.


That’s what my pen is for me.  And He meets me in what I love.  Paper. Pen to paper.  Beginning to End. Question to Answer.  He’s there.


May all discover the way in which they function best…the way in which He talks best…and find that best of advice He craves to give.


Prov 3:5,6

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.


differences made……

the people in my street

i was yet again challenged this week by God to respect and honor beyond my own comfort. so easily we fall  into rhythms of who we think are the important and honorable people in this world, in my community, in my church and in my street.

mother theresa said: it is easy to love the people far away. it is not always easy to love those close to us. it is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in your own home. bring love into your own home for this is where our love for each other must start.

i saw “alta” this weekend. first time in 13 years.  “alta”, the mother of 3. abused by her husband. poor alta. always late for church……because she always had to wait for the taxi. and i didn’t deem it…

View original post 186 more words