driftwood

{via stylemepretty}

these days i have felt very unpoetic, very uninspired.

all of my artistic energies have been focused on my NaNoWriMo novel, and all of my strength has been poured into the care of my precious warrior-daughter of now eight weeks.

and then the doctors said i needed more surgery. my gallbladder quit working, as though it wast just as tired as i was. and i went under the knife again two days ago. my body is rung out like a rag in the bottom of the kitchen sink, tossed and crumpled and completely without strength.

i am weary. i am without poetry. i am simply exhausted.

i am driftwood.

lead me to the Rock that is higher than i.

and i am tempest tossed and oh, so forelorn.

i am a ship and the waves are swelling. 

but there is One who calms the waters with a word.

peace. be still.

for I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel.

and He has gone before me, unsurprised by a single thing that has occurred over the past month. and all i can do is whisper "thank you" to the stars that illuminate my night. because the Cross is what i cling to without ceasing these days, or i would be smashed to pieces against the shoals, carved with lies. 

insufficient becomes :: enough

broken becomes :: whole

empty becomes :: filled

and i am driftwood carved to elegance, leaning against the Rock that is higher than i.

collapsed melody

{via pinterest}

i have hit a strange point, a point that i rarely ever acknowledge.

i take no pride in my weakness but i can no longer deny that i...

...i am gorgeously exhausted. 

and i'm not even sure what that means.

i'm in a place of extended fingers and ever-moving feet from here to there and a dayplanner that i ache to fling into the sea but find myself returning to its spiral-bound organization again and again.

i awoke this morning with a literal loss as to what day of the week it actually was.

yesterday felt like a Monday...or perhaps a Thursday?

where am i?

this tumble-drier of plans and household chores and social events and washing sweater upon blouse, tugging my oversized suitcase and travel trunk from my closet as i prepare for a week away from this place.

a place of chaotic solace that i know awaits me...but i can't even think that far ahead.

i'm in a beautiful place of sheer and utter collapse.

i'm relying on me, and sinking into the ground...aching to open the lid of my luggage, crawling inside and curling up away from the world for five minutes together.

i'm already small...and now i feel smaller.

i'm in a place of overused ellipses and inkblots on my brain.

{via pinterest}

i have a song in my heart, bursting and pressing against these walls. i can feel it burning. but the lyrics have escaped my soul. i can't conjure them up, no matter how hard i sit with pen and paper and endless sticky notes of

to do and 

must do and 

don't forget and

so i find this place of rest. not curled in a suitcase or between the pristine lines of calenders.

this place on my knees

where the silence caresses and He and i converse in endless dialogue of rest and comfort and silence.

find me there today. 

this hope of instrumental piano and acoustic guitar. He sings over me.

there it is.

there's my melody...

...He had it all the time.

{linking with my dear emily today}

Collapse

I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being. ~Oscar Wilde

This will be an incredibly short post, and I do promise a much longer one tomorrow.

I am exhausted to the core.

But the words "overjoyed relief" do not fully capture the euphoria I am feeling at this very moment. There is truly nothing in comparison to this feeling, except perhaps Opening Night.

Twelve hours...

...almost 40 auditioners....

...47 jawbreakers...

...more caffeine than any one human should consume in their lifetime...

...an amazing team of seven passionate theatrical individuals....

...and my production of "OZ!" has been completely cast.

God is so beautiful.

Theater is tragically wonderful...flawlessly frustrating...and epic in all its never-ending facets.

As of today, I don my "Director" baseball cap.

Tonight, I start my trip down the Yellow Brick Road and dust off my ruby slippers.

I have been waiting for this moment for my entire theatrical career.

OZ! has officially begun.

Here goes nothing.

Soli Deo Gloria.