on writing the story, and singing in the wilderness.

October 3, 2013, Michaela Evanow, 14 Comments

One day it just came, it came fast and it came with a rhythm.  This story—I’ve been carrying it all along, carrying it since the day I was born.

And all along, He knew how it would weave into me, fibres of truth. He knew the words I would write someday, some tomorrow. His thumbprint was right there underneath my fingertips, creating those silent words that come out of nowhere. So, I write when it doesn’t seem important. I write when my heart is full and heavy with grief, and I write when there are no words. But they come, somehow, even when my chest is heaving and that familiar salt brims on my lids, tired of overflowing.

So tired.

Somedays, I write songs, but the ones without sheet music. It’s the song I belt out in the wilderness, that place where I can’t seem to hear His voice. It’s the song that propels me forward, when I stumble through grief and pain and what the future holds.

It’s the song that’s been written on my heart, carved really, and it’s making me tell stories.

We all have stories, we carry them with us.

I’m carrying mine right now, in a 25 pound child, limp like a well loved rag doll. I’m carrying her story—the one where she’s running and clapping and spinning weakness into strength. She was already written on my heart, when I sprouted those same wheat coloured curls. She was already there, tucked inside me before I could form words. Imagine that.

He knew me before He knit me together in my mother’s womb, and now I am the womb that knit her. I’m the vessel that carried her while she was being crafted together, piece by precious piece.

But where did it go wrong? I rarely ask Him, but it’s usually in the wild, open places, on silent days. When the genetic code deleted those God given genes, why wasn’t I aware? I didn’t even know I was carrying her, didn’t know she was writing her story, and singing the melody that would reverberate from the depths of her mama.

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In the dark night, I’ve traced the curls around my daughter’s ears, pulled them out until they fuzzed, and I’ve whispered:

I’m writing this story, my love, I’m writing it for us, but it’s not just about you, nor is it just about me. There is an ancient song here, and we are called to sing it. It sounds like the one Jesus sang in the desert place and in the shadows of the garden. It’s holy and it’s simple, and yet we’ll keep on singing it until we see His face. 

I don’t know how the story will continue, and I try not to think about it’s end. I get that hard lump, the clenching in my throat when I think about the earthly facts. So, instead of letting those Helvetica typed facts and footnotes rip my hope into pieces, I let the Creator himself take that bottle of glue, and I let Him in. I say: cover me with your goodness, put me back together, and create in me a renewed heart, no longer battle weary, no longer tired.

And yet, I know His song will continue, even if the story becomes too painful.

I pray, as I kiss her goodnight:

Teach me where the song begins and the sorrow ends. Teach me when to rest and when to pick up that sword, the one I swear is far too heavy for me. May I lick my lips when they are parched, may the Blood in me never run dry, may I create life even when the dirt is mounded high.

Dig me out, and make me write this story.

The one where you win, no matter what.

The one that makes me sing.

Linking up with shelovesmagazine.com for October.

14 Comments

  • Reply Kali October 4, 2013 at 9:29 PM

    It is such a good story and I love how you tell it…

  • Reply child of God October 4, 2013 at 12:39 PM

    So beautifully written!
    Lifting Florence up to our Father who knows her story and asking Him to heal her here on earth.

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 6:49 PM

      Thank you, and amen to that!

  • Reply Lindsay October 4, 2013 at 11:18 AM

    Thank you so much for all your words Michaela! I’ve been going through some medical stuff as of late and your attitude inspires me so much!

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 6:49 PM

      Hi Lindsay, I’m so glad to hear that and I pray you have added strength to walk through your journey today.

  • Reply Kelly S. October 4, 2013 at 10:20 AM

    Beautiful words this morning, honest and, yes, brave words. God gave you this story, and you are the perfect person to carry it, to call it yours. May you find peace in the full assurance of His goodness and provision, and He always carries you.

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 6:50 PM

      Thanks Kelly for coming by and saying hello, sharing words of encouragement. I appreciate it.

  • Reply Danica October 4, 2013 at 9:08 AM

    Michaela, rest certain in the knowledge that God grants us power only in little pieces, always giving us just as much strength as we need. So we keep coming back for Him, for more. You will have the strength to lift the sword when the time has come to do so. You can do it. You will do it. Just like you will mother life when the time has come to do so. You will always find the strength to do what needs to be done, He will lead your hand, your heart and He will never leave you, even if you don´t find that it feels like He is there. That is the promise He gave us by means of His Son. It is His will.

    And just like you can rest assured in His promise, your most precious little Flo-bear can rest assured in the power and strength and faith that you draw from Him. Be blessed, dear Michaela, at least inasmuch as you are a blessing to so many others. And continue to take life one step at a time, one day at a time. This is the way God created the world, working all His wonders one step at a time, even resting on the seventh day, as He saw it was good. Look at Florence and see – behold! She is good. She is loved. She is a miracle.

    I pray for you all. As I do every single day since I stumbled over your blog.

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 6:51 PM

      I’m so glad you have a praying heart Danica. And I’m glad you stumbled across my blog!

  • Reply Barb October 4, 2013 at 7:44 AM

    I am so moved this morning by your beautiful story! Keep writing for her, for you and for Him. We’re here – your sisters. We will read and encourage you on this journey. Be blessed!

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 8:39 AM

      Barb, thanks for the kind encouragement. It’s well received!

  • Reply Mindy Howell October 3, 2013 at 9:17 PM

    Your story touches deep. Any parent who reads this hurts along with you. Write. Lament. Share. Thank you for being brave enough to be honest. Remembering you in my prayers.

    • Reply Michaela. October 4, 2013 at 8:40 AM

      Thanks for such beautiful words. I’ve always been drawn to the word lament. There’s something so beautiful and redeeming about it, if that makes any sense. Thanks for visiting Mindy.

  • Reply Heather McCool October 3, 2013 at 9:06 PM

    Oh girl, I have no words. Your bravery astounds me.

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