Lost this morning.
Don’t know where to start.
Many, many things I should be doing,
rather than sitting pen in hand.
Except I know that pen writes me back to You.
These scratched pages, this black ink,
writes the map of my heart…
I will follow it back to You.
You who flung the stars in place,
You who drew mountains from the sea,
You who painted the fish,
You who set the orbits, request that my heart revolve around You
So I write.
Follow the map to set myself on course.
I am found.
one thing blog 
my heart revolve around You…yes this is how I need to be. Too often I find myself revolving the Son around my earth.
oh sweet Melissa…this: ‘Except I know that pen writes me back to You.’ and all of this sweet, affirming truth–we writers need each other, b/c it is hard for those who love us and don’t write to understand {though, secretly, we think everyone is a writer}…so, yes, love, love, love!
oh, this is exquisite… i follow the nib of my pen to his heart, too, dear friend. the other things can wait… i love this photo. i want to sink deep into it. xo
i’m here, too. i couldn’t blog a word of it, so i’m thankful for yours…
Love that, thanks. Love reading the hearts of writers minds.