Sometimes I forget I am a writer. I know that kind of sounds odd considering it’s my livelihood these days. But I write for other people, in their voices, all day long. And don’t get me wrong, I love doing it. And- sometimes I forget that I have my own voice. One that I’ve cultivated, crafted, and honed over years of development. It’s like remembering you have skin.
I don’t have to put it on, it just is.
That’s how this felt when I wrote it last year. Like coming back to myself. Like remembering I had skin.
I had dreams of turning it into a children’s book- and I’m not letting that go, yet.
AND.
I believe you shouldn’t have to wait for that. Because Advent can be tricky for some of us, and whatever helps you navigate through should be employed.
Wishing so much love to you in this season.
It Is Dancing, Even Now
Once Upon a Time ( Because that is how all good stories begin), The Three God Creators had an idea.
They wanted to write the biggest story they had ever written.
They wanted to paint the biggest picture they had ever painted.
They wanted to experience a deeper love than they had ever felt before.
And so, They went to the darkness and saw that it was the perfect place for light to dance in.
When they closed their eyes, they heard a deep breath of open sky and rushing waves. When their fingers brushed the horizon line, the land began to spread like moss on a great tree. Animals began to fill the grassy knolls and the plains and fill the waters.
But they were still unfinished.
They wanted to give the new world they created a piece of their very selves; a people like them. And so, they did.
A people with pieces of them, filled with love and kindness and justice and mercy.
And so they were.
And so they are, even still.
But over time and little by little, the people forgot about the pieces of God they carried. They were buried under the care of babies and protecting the animals and violence and wars and the feelings of fear and sorrow and the experiences of hunger and of anger. It got harder and harder for the people to remember about the pieces of God they carried within them- so hard, in fact, the God Creators decided they needed to do something.
They needed to do something to help the people remember about the pieces of God they had within them:
The love and the kindness and the justice and the mercy.
So, one of them came to visit the Earth they created. He came as a baby to remind the people of their own goodness and innocence. And some people remembered. And the more He grew up, the more people listened and remembered who they were.
The love. The kindness. The justice. The mercy.
But some people didn’t want to remember. Sometimes, it is too hard to remember the someone you were, who you are not anymore. Sometimes it feels like too much work; sometimes, it feels like you were left behind and the anger feels bigger than the pieces of God left in you.
The people who couldn’t remember (or who didn’t want to) devised a plan to kill the God who came to remind them.
And they thought they had succeeded when they killed his body.
But they didn’t know that you can’t kill love.
Or kindness.
Or justice.
Or mercy.
They didn’t know that they couldn’t kill the pieces of God in them, either.
And it began to grow and live and thrive all over again.
Even in sorrow. Even in death. Even in tragedy. Even in darkness.
The light was still dancing.
It is dancing even now.