 Those who receive my author newsletter have probably heard a little about some of the other writing projects I've been working on in the background to my part-time PhD. I tend to have a few projects on the go at the same time even as I chip away at the big ones. This way of working, however, does have its challenges because the more projects you have on the go, the more ups and downs you encounter, as well as multiple versions of uncertainty.
And here's the thing, uncertainty is just part of the game when it comes to creative pursuits. We make, we hope, we dream, we build and then - with tentative imaginations and wistful expectations - we send that creativity out into the world.
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 I have a bucket of broken things.
It isn’t full, there is still a lot of life yet, but the bucket is heavy anyway. I stare at it. Push it away with my foot and glare at it. Of course it doesn’t budge. It’s mine. Full of all the broken things my life has collected: broken dreams, broken hearts, broken hopes, broken starts. I stare at it a little longer, knowing its weight without even picking it up. Then I lean over, wrap my fists around the metal handle and drag it to Jesus. I’m tired of carrying this bucket alone.  A spindly branch of wattle blossoms from the bushland at the end of my street. And a spindly 'think' from my journal where I'm musing about faith and trust and the Refiner's work of love. *** You
meet me where the heart is aching. You hold me when the cracks begin to show.  Thinking to myself about limits and disappointments, weariness and pretense, I wrote this in my journal. I know the word failure can be contentious - it's not a popular word to apply to ourselves - but despite all the positive self talk in the world, and the way we can spin our failures to be steps towards success, I believe there are still days when we feel/know our failing deeply. This 'think' is for those days. *** Quit pretending
that you have it all together, that your dreams came true and you look upon your life with satisfaction. The truth is and you know, know, know it  This is my favourite cup.
Or it was. Until last week when it slipped, hit the kitchen tiles and splintered all over the place. I'll admit, I almost cried. Why? Because this wasn't any old mug. It was my 2023 Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference cup. It was big, blue and full of memories with every sip. And now, it's broken. |
The Penny DropsIn high school I used to write what I'd call 'thinks' - little bits of writing about whatever topic or issue I was mulling over at the time. I still write these little pieces. Categories
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