Where Have All The Words Gone?

Hello, blogging world. It has been a very long time. In fact, it has been over two years since my last post. Something I committed to doing regularly some four years ago, has turned into a  stray sock that fell behind the dryer and was lost forever. Until I did Spring cleaning of course and pulled the dryer out and found said missing sock. As for Spring cleaning, that is a bad word in our home, as is the word "bored". Deep cleaning and I have a hate/hate relationship. 

I digress.

Why am I back to the blogging grind after taking such a long hiatus? Words. Simply put. Words have a tendency to rise up in me, so many that if they do not spill out onto a page, they will insufferably be buried down deep and forgotten. It has been a long, dry, and isolating season for us all as we've suffered the effects of COVID-19 and have holed up in our homes, against our desire, for most of 2020. Now I've consumed my share of words, ideas, and opinions via social media, books, and other miscellaneous forms of communication. But I have not truly expressed very many of my own, organic words. I can get lost in books, both literally and figuratively as my husband and I both stumble over the piles of them I leave EVERYWHERE. If Amazon gave out awards for most prolific book purchasers, I would have that sucker on my desk, displayed proudly. But I struggle to set aside time to get my own words out and organized. What if I stopped worrying about organization and presentation and just got them out? 

Today has been an exceptionally low day. I experienced a "dark night of the soul". I locked myself in my innermost, Holy of Holies, aka my closet, and wrestled with God. The wrestling had less to do with the circumstances surrounding me and more to do with the wellbeing of my spirit man. Ask anyone and I am the poster child of "I'm fine, nothing is wrong!" It has only been these last 8 months or so that God, in His mercy, has begun to unpack my innermost emotional wounds and words, against my will I might add. To the point that I have to unpack, process, and sit in the moment whenever I am overwhelmed. I can no longer shove it down or under the proverbial carpet. It's actually impossible now. My soul refuses to be silenced any longer. Having a voice is a good thing, it's a God thing. For too long I've held a fearful hand over the mouth of my spirit and commanded it to hush. No more.