White.
The color of snow. We dream of Christmas mornings where our front yards have been decorated by it. For our eyes to peak out our front windows and see what was once covered in green has been transformed overnight. As a kid growing up in Georiga, the slightest chance of it had us sitting in front of our TV’s all night watching the news, waiting to see if our school would flash across the bottom part of the screen telling us it had been closed down. For those of us who hardly ever get to see snow, we wish for it. We want to see white. For those of us who live in a place where we see the white all the time, it is the opposite. The color white for some people is a view that they get to take in once every now and then. The color white for others is a far too familiar scenery that they could do away with.
I have felt that way recently. Not about snow, but about a blank page.
White.
For four years I wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. 70,000 words to be exact. After the summer of 2018, I came home from working at a summer camp and I cranked out goodness knows how many words. A white page greeted me in the morning like it was a friendly cup of coffee, something that became part of a routine. It makes sense to me now when I think through the lens of winter snow that when you see it all the time you grow tired of it. You even dread it a little bit. That is how I have felt about writing. Almost like I got tired of it. I had done enough of it, seen enough of it, experienced enough of it. I am in a season where I have all this time to sit down at a computer and get out my thoughts but I haven’t. It is not because I do not have them. It is not because I do not feel like I do not have anything to say. In fact, it is more of the fact that I feel overwhelmed by how much I want to say. I can sense a new stirring deep in my soul that feels like the ocean tides before a hurricane. A new feeling, one that scares me a little bit. There are so many things the Lord is impressing on my heart that I cannot even fathom where to begin. You hear of writer’s block, someone who feels like they cannot find anything to say. You do not hear of someone being overwhelmed by feeling like they have too much to say. How does something like this even exist? Have I lost my mind?
The answer is no. I think about David and his heart to want to build the temple. Can you imagine what went through his head day after day? David had a vision. He even had materials. However, the Lord said no. David ended up passing off what he had gathered to his son Solomon who would construct the temple. I am reading through the lines here a little bit but I imagine David walking around like a construction site worker. He had his tool belt on and a truck bed loaded with supplies to start working but he could not. This did not mean that the stirring was not there. It meant that God had not said go. I love how David navigated the stirring though. He gathered materials so that when the time came, if it came, he would be ready. That is what I am seeing the Lord is asking me to do with all my stirrings, even more specifically all my thoughts. Gather them, collect them, load them into the back of a pickup truck a little bit at a time so that when He says it is time to build we can build. Because I can say, I have a lot of things I believe the Lord is asking me to write about but they are one line ideas that I have not been able to develop yet. One line is a material though. I must gather it, load it up, and He will piece it together when He sees it. Or, if like David, if He tells me to pass the baton to someone else, I do not have to show up empty-handed. As far as I am concerned, gathering materials for something the Lord wants to build is a job with just as much honor as the one who gets to lay the concrete.
“With great pains I have provided for the house of the Lord 100,000 talents of gold, a million talents of silver, and bronze and iron beyond weighing, for there is so much of it; timber and stone, too, I have provided. To these, you must add. You have an abundance of workmen: stonecutters, masons, carpenters, and all kinds of craftsmen without number, skilled in working gold, silver, bronze, and iron. Arise and work! The Lord be with you!” 1 Chronicles 22:14-16
I am learning that that stirring inside of me is reaffirming what I have already known – I am a writer. It would make sense that when you overhaul on stringing sentences together that you would experience a time frame where looking at blank page makes you feel like your head might explode. It would make sense that a familiar scenery would start to lose its touch of effect on you.
I think about my oldest brother who lives out west. He sees snow all winter long, lots of it. We have had conversations about him being ready for the new season to come and for the snow to melt away. These conversations always happen a couple weeks into the first few weeks of winter. Then the snow melts, the season’s change, another year goes by, and winter arrives again. Like a giddy little kid on Christmas morning, he will send picture after picture of the first snowfall. A bit confusing right? One second he loves it, after a while he wants it gone. That was until I realized that all of us grow tired of something, even something we love. My brother did not move out west because he hated the snow. He moved out west because he loved it. Even despite the fact that it is possible for there to be times when he needs the leaves to change.
Maybe that is how it is for all of us with things we love. Maybe that is how it is for all of us with what we are passionate about. Maybe that is how it is for all of us even with what we are gifted at. We love the scenery that holds all of those things but even we need the colors to change every now and then. For a while, I thought this was selfish, undisciplined, and even had some shame creep, but that was until I realized we do not choose our favorite views because there is a guarantee that we will never grow tired of them. We chose them because we know that even when we do grow tired of them, the moment always comes back when we see them again and it feels like seeing snow for the first time all over again.
White.
I looked at it for a long time, so much so that I did not want to see it anymore. Today, I look at it like I am a sixteen-year-old girl again writing her first blog post. Here is the thing though, I would not feel the way I do today if I had not let myself confess that I had grown tired of looking at something. Taking a step back and taking a step away are two different things. Taking a step away is turning in a new direction. Taking a step back is so you can zoom out and get a better view. My friends, whatever that thing is for you that puts fire in your bones. Whatever that thing is what makes you feel like a weight is sitting on your chest when you do not do it. Whatever that thing is that people are always telling you to keep doing. There might come a time when you do need a step back. It does not mean you are throwing in the towel. What it means is that you need to rediscover the wonder. Please know that I am referring specifically to giftings/talents here, not people.
When the Lord plants something inside of you, it has to be tended to. The roots need to grow deep. Gosh, but they also need to be watered. It will wither and fade if the right measures are not taken. Watering can sometimes look like taking a step back. Watering really is resting. God gives us gifts but He invites us into rest. I am right in the middle of days where I am seeing that resting recreates wonder.
I did get to step back. Now I get to step back closer and my eyes are wide-eyed.
White.
At the start of summer, it feels like the first fallen snow. The view of a blank page and I am giddy about it.
