the things that i dream i can do

God calls out to me and says "wait." He reminds me that His timing is best. And I concede - for a moment. But the moment passes quickly, and I soon begin to pout with arms crossed over my chest. Frustrated. Tired. Tears brimming my eyes and then falling, my nose dripping. I ask "why" and then "now please." Eventually my eyes are swollen and red, my voice hoarse and I request help.

And God answers. Much like a parent tending to a child with a skinned knee. He brings the items needed to mend my brokenness and kisses the places that hurt. He wraps me in His arms and holds me. I squirm - always - and He tightens His hold.

This is a cycle that repeats itself often. Sometimes it's because of finances. Other times because I am anxious about our house. Or my writing. Or what to do with the rest of my life. The list goes on and on.

God created a worrying heart when He knit me together. He created a person who liks to have a plan and does not like to deter the plan. He did this knowingly and with thoughtful reasons. He knew all the steps I would take and when I would fall. He counts every tear I cry.

The thought alone moves me to tears. How can someone, anyone, love so completely and perfectly? How can He look at me and see a beautiful creation when I am nothing more than a snotty nose, puffy eyes, scraped knees, broken heart, and bruised arms?

I don't know. I will never know.

Right now I am anxious and impatient with my writing, with piecing together sentences and creating imaginary (or not so imaginary) worlds. I am ready to move past this process of writing and rewriting. I am ready to take the next step. But I have to wait.

Writing is hard. To me it is one of the hardest things to do. I love it with every ounce of myself, yes, but I also despise it with every ounce of myself. Compared to others, my words fall flat, and my stories seem so simple and so unimportant.

But they aren't. Nothing is unimportant.

Because if I don't write, then who will tell the stories? They are not my stories but His. Knit together with other stories being told to remind us all that life hurts and is hard but there is always hope.

And does God need me for any of this? No. But He wants me. He selected me and provided me with the desire to put pen to paper as a child and now to tap my fingers against the keyboard. He gave me a love of the written word, the ability to lose myself in a book, and the dream to create characters and stories that will somehow touch others.

So here I am. Tired and devoid of any inspiration for my current writing project. Frustrated with the most recent short story I wrote. Envious of other's voice. But God says wait. And He promises that He has a purpose for my writing and my love of the word.

Now please?

Not yet. And I will wait.

(lyrics from "one sweet love" by sara bareilles)