Revealing Grace

I spent last week laying on a beach in Mexico thanks to the extreme generosity of a good friend. It's ok to be jealous, it was pretty awesome. The funny thing was that even though we were in a little piece of paradise, Cameron and I could not figure out how to relax for the life of us. You see, our vacations are generally active vacations. We pick places where we can hike every morning, or go to museums and do some sightseeing. This vacation, though, was different. In this location of Mexico there was absolutely nothing to do except lay on the beach, or lay by the pool, or read on the patio while overlooking the ocean. Yea, rough life. So the first day Cameron and I did all of the obligatory laying around and reading and by the end of the day we were totally freaking out. "We might have to leave early," Cameron said. " I don't think I can do this for 4 more days." "Yea, who knew that being lazy would be so difficult!!" It was such a weird ...

I miss the words that used to flow like ocean waves from my fingertips.  Like the tides they would present themselves.  They were reliable, they were my lifeline.  And then so much changed and I think I could barely figure out myself let alone the words to express it.  I lost myself somewhere.  I lost the words that were so precious to me and I curled up into the shell that I had created and decided that the world was bleak and I was better off cutting myself loose.  To produce words would mean to process and I did not want to process. Processing can mean pain, and my little shell was comfortable and dark, but manageable.  Processing was not manageable.  So the words packed themselves into a box and decided not to bother me. Since I was rather snappy it was probably better for them anyways.  But despite my resistance the words kept pressing against the tips of my fingers, begging to be written. Maybe my identity was a li...