For a season, my heart bled ink onto the pages of my blog.  It was open, honest, unfiltered and raw.  It also tended to be discouraged, angry, and bitter.

Then, the Potter began kneading out the knots and air bubbles in my soul.  Before long, just living life as my Father began scraping away became my ultimate focus.  Most days, I was too physically and emotionally drained to press my fleeting, whirling thoughts and feelings into coherent words, much less sentences.

Seasons in life are inevitable – just like the seasons here, where I live.  During the winter months, when the air turns frigid and nips at your nose and the wind bites at your back, there’s one thing that I miss even more than the sunshine.  I miss the sweet songs of the birds.  As much as I love looking straight up into a flock of dancing, fat snowflakes, I do miss the beautiful melody of our winged friends.  I suppose we all go through our seasons of silence.

It’s not because I’ve figured everything out that I’ve found my voice again.  Quite the opposite.  It’s that I’m no longer trying to figure it all out.  And, with that…comes an amazing freedom.

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