sacred conversations

{via pinterest}

ever since my dear rain wrote this post, i've had my eyes open.

every place i go, i study the people who surround me.

do i know you?

i catch myself staring now, perhaps more than i should. 

and i'm overwhelmed with soul. 

did i forget that we all had one, this thing of soul? that strangers have stories too? 

have i simply been ignoring? 

i want to know you

because i know Him. 

i go to Him in prayer a lot. prayers of gratitude, broken pleas for want and need. 

but i forgot that we can have conversations about the day. i can come to Him and sit at His feet and just talk.

just communing. 

God and i have been conversing a great deal lately. 

on tuesday, i wrote about my encounter with meeting broken eyes, in finding honour where shame tends to resides. 

it's becoming a theme

a symphony of sacredness, of humility at the foot of this splintered blood-stained cross. 

what are you seeking? 

are you daring to converse with the King of Kings?

Lettre

The one good thing about not seeing you is that I can write you letters.  ~Svetlana Alliluyeva


I am a huge advocate for the written word. 


Honestly, as much as I love and rely on technology for communications with the world beyond my own doorstep...


...there is something so heartfelt about a hand-penned letter, placed in a hand-licked and carefully address envelope, and slipped into a mailbox. 


It requires patience and love and a steadfast hand. 


It's a discipline and a virtue, one of which I am a devoted follower. 


I received my first penpal at the tender age of 11 with a little girl I met through a Christian children's magazine...


...and then continued with my letter-writing delights at the age of 14 with a guy friend I met at Family Camp, with whom I still have a wonderful friendship with to this very day.


And now, I have just recently begun a new mailbox-connected friendship with my beautiful friend Grace of Puddles of Memories. 


There is something so entrancing about the idea about sitting down at a table, taking a pen between my fingers, and allowing my thoughts to flow out from me onto the page...


...sharing everything, no matter how trivial, with someone who waits in a different part of the country to hear my soul's musings. 


There is magic in the art of the pen and paper. 


The computer has its delights and its requirements, that is certain. 


But the whispered mystery of the written word...


...novels made of paper, fragrant with ink and unspoken promises of lands to come...


...the scritching sound made as my pen traces across the blank page of a eagerly-waiting journal, aching to fill its empty spaces with teardrops and overwhelming joys...


...letters written in the careful hand of a patient and tender friend... 


These things have held me spellbound all my life.


And regardless of technology,


I would rather hold the words in my palm. 


The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.  ~Walt Whitman