Tuesday, November 22, 2016

“But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.”

~ Lord Byron


I love the written word. I love playing with words and how they go together in order to make something tangible of an inner thought or a feeling. I love reading beautifully pieced together sentences and paragraphs a writer has laboured over until the simple words become something exquisite in their joining.

I am less enamoured with the spoken word, the brash and bold cousin of the more dignified and refined written word, but still it has its merits.

I enjoy one-on-one conversation when masks are cast aside in favour of authenticity. I’ve just recently realized how much I appreciate the spoken word of engaging presenters who speak on topics that interest me. I appreciate my pastor’s spoken word on Sunday morning as he teaches us truth and encourages us for the journey.

I am not proficient in the spoken word, however. Somewhere between my thoughts and my speaking the words often become jumbled causing me to stumble and trip when I speak. I have clear and coherent conversations in my mind when I play back encounters in my mind later, but those words remain in the silence of my imaginings.

So I write.


Today: starting physiotherapy for my frozen, and very painful, shoulder. Praying for relief.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. Best wishes as you seek healing from shoulder pain, Linda.

  2. This is a stunning photo. It’s sad but beautiful at the same time. I hope you feel better soon!

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