When my younger children are reading for school and they get to a word with which they are struggling, they usually lose their steam mid-word.  I wait as long as I can, until I know with certainty that they can’t continue, and then gently I encourage them:

Start Again.

And they do.  And with a second chance and usually a little nudge, they can work their way through the word unassisted.  It’s beautiful to watch.  Their faces light up with pride.  And they feel that much more confident to move onto the next word.

The next word.

I used to write so much.  I love to write.  Taking my chaotic, raw emotion and thought and turning it into writing and, hopefully, encouraging someone in the process fills me with purpose and joy.  But I stopped writing.  When I lost my second son (and third baby) through stillbirth, my breath was knocked out of me.  My words were gone.  For a long time.  Longer than I thought they would be gone.  Life just kept moving, and it wasn’t always pretty or easy.  And the words were still so few.  So small.

But, slowly, my breath has been restored.  He blew His holy breath back into my soul, slowly resuscitating my faith, reviving my words. Through His slow, steady, strong grace, I am restored.  Renewed.  But my old blog felt as though it were from a lifetime ago. I was such a different person.  So, once again, motivation to write stalled.  But, I heard my own advice:

Start Again.

So, I am.  My soul restored, my words back, I am starting anew.  Here.  Thanks to my dear husband, I figured out how to import my old blogs (please, dear reader, don’t read too far back–it’s embarrassing). And I am starting again.  With the next word.  His Word.

I have realized that God has had a crazy, unpredictable plan for me all this time.  Some of it, I’ve seen and endured.  Some of it has yet to come.  The last few years have been, overall, so difficult.  Entire seasons have brought me to my knees, praying in unstoppable tears.  But, from those dark, painful times have come some beautiful graces.

Weeping may tarry through the night, but joy comes in the morning.

And, oh, His joy he gives.  It’s incredible.  It’s beautiful!

One evening recently, as I sat in our backyard watching my four blessed children playing, a phrase came into my head.  And it very much sums up my life:

Trust with wild abandon.

Trust.  With abandon.  Despite the darkness, despite the suffering, despite the pain–He brings greater good out of it all. He renews our strength.  He restores our souls.  In the midst of the struggle, I need only trust.  Trust with the wildest of abandon.  And, through His abiding grace, Joy will indeed dawn with the glorious morning sun.