In these words, you find my life.

A lot of times music will stir my soul to such a point that I start fantasizing about being alone with God. I feel such a drawing to be alone with Him anywhere...absolutely anywhere... but, every single time, I am with journal in hand. I am absolutely scribbling away. Furiously. Hair falling in my face. Determination.

As I view this scene in my mind's eye, I can't help but feel like my words matter far more than I dream that they do. I feel words stirring in my bones and veins that need to be heard. But, I'm not sure of my message. I'm not sure of the intent. I only know that I'm relaying something. While anyone that knows me knows that the finished work of the Cross, inner healing, prophecy, and the inerrant goodness of God should and would be a theme, I oft wonder which story needs to be shared. Which experience? What lesson learned? What is my intent?

Mostly, I feel like there's something inside of me bursting to get out. I feel unsettled because it's not out of me. I feel unsettled because it's merely stirring inside of me -- this whirlwind of actual life-giving energy. It's almost as if things won't happen. Things won't be as they should. Unless I speak. Unless I write. Unless I pour out my heart on the canvas of any paper I can get my hands on. This is how I paint. How I create. How I give. How I love.

My words. Life. They are tangible. They are electric objects. They can be touched. They can spark you.

It draws such a sense of wonder at this life we lead to know that there is greatness residing in one's self and to be okay with your greatness and to feel responsible for your greatness and to want to steward your greatness.

The things that could happen are overwhelmingly tantalizing.