- This topic has 138 replies, 4 voices, and was last updated 1 day, 13 hours ago by
.
-
Posts
-
@savannah_grace2009 @hybridlore @vinagirl
OK, this segment is basically the farthest I’ve gotten in the story so far. Lmk if you have any suggestions for things that could happen from here on out!
That summer marked the beginning of a new season for me as Albert and I formally entered into a courtship. Albert walked me home from church nearly every Sunday, and Chester’s idea came to fruition as we began picnicking together Sunday afternoons. Chester and Albert began talking more openly about their land and how their crops were coming along. Albert didn’t say much to me about his plans to build a home or even about marriage yet.
It had been such a dry year, I didn’t think a single farmer in the area had gotten a good crop. James had built his own shanty, and Abe had moved in with him, both hiring themselves out to the farmers, but with the crop failure, earning money was a struggle. I knew James wanted to buy his own land just as Albert had done, but he didn’t have a girl he was seeing, so it didn’t matter quite so much if he didn’t have his own property yet.
It was a hot afternoon in September when James walked in the door with an urgent pace.
“I just came from town,” he said. “Clara’s time has come. She’d like it if you were there, Mama, for support.”
Mama dropped what she was doing, and I helped her gather a few things from around the house before we got in the wagon and James drove us into town.
Hours later, Luella Hawley came into the world. I was proud of my sister and in love with my little niece.
The winter of ’87-’88 was my first term as a schoolteacher. I was nervous about the new job- the idea of keeping children in line all day made my stomach quiver. But I wanted the pay; I knew Mama wanted that kitchen Pa still hadn’t been able to build for her, and James and Abe wanted to buy land for themselves so they could start farming. Secretly, I also wanted to save some to put towards that house Albert wanted to build me. I hadn’t given him so much as a hint to my thoughts; something in me wanted to wait just a little longer before bringing up marriage. Although he’d stated his intentions of marriage in the past, Albert hadn’t formally asked for my hand yet.
Most days, teaching school went smoothly. I fell in love with the children, and most of them loved me in return. It made things much easier for me when they listened because they respected me. There were a few of the older boys who got cocky with me; I remembered some of them from when I was still in school and they were just in the beginner grades.
The biggest challenge was the cold. It was a bitterly cold winter, and we had several snows already before Christmas. Mattie was the only one of the Cullivers still in school, so she often came with me. More often than not, Albert adopted the habit of driving out to pick us up in the wagon, thus cutting down on the amount of time we spent out in the cold air. He wasn’t doing anything in his shanty over the winter, he said, aside from spending a good deal of time carving blocks of wood into chairs, but he often brought that in the wagon with him and sat in the tavern carving while we were in the schoolhouse.
Every morning when we arrived, Albert helped me build a fire in the woodstove and break the ice on top of the water bucket. The schoolhouse didn’t warm up much by the time the children arrived, so most remained in whatever coats or warm garments they came in, and we began the school day. I had them take frequent breaks to warm their hands by the fire, and usually by the end of the day, the small building retained a little bit of heat.
In January of 1888, Albert dropped me and Mattie off at the schoolhouse as usual and kindled the fire for us. In spite of the milder temperatures, the sky was heavy and gray, and Albert glanced out the window with concern.
“It looks like it’s about to storm,” he said. “It feels like a blizzard is coming.”
I frowned as I joined him by the window. “I hope not,” I said. “I wouldn’t want any of the children to get stranded on their way to school.”
“Maybe the ones who live farthest will stay home today,” Albert suggested hopefully. “I’ll keep my eye on it and come fetch you if need be.” With that, he was off to the tavern for another day of carving whatever he’d hidden under the blanket in the back of the wagon.
The first flurries began to fall just as I rang the bell to call the children inside. Albert was right; more children were absent today than usual. I hated to send the children home as soon as they arrived, but I was afraid of a storm. Perhaps it would just be a few flurries, and I really had nothing to worry about.
We got through the morning, had recess, and then assembled again for classes. This is when the snow began to fall heavier.
“School is dismissed,” I announced. “Please hurry getting home. It looks like the storm is getting worse.”
No sooner had the children scrambled to their feet, than footsteps sounded from the entry. Albert, followed by two of the fathers of the children, entered the room.
“I can take a number of children in my wagon out the direction of the Clydes’,” Mr. Kingman volunteered.
“And I can take children out as far as the Haldemans’ place,” Mr. Finch added. We split some of the children up between them and sent the rest out to get home as fast as possible. Albert put out the fire in the woodstove and turned to me and Mattie.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I should have thought to bring the sled instead of the wagon. If we leave now we should be able to make it home before the snow gets too deep.”
“Let’s go,” I agreed. Albert led the way to the wagon, where he helped Mattie up onto the seat, and then me. Mattie squeezed between us where it was warmest, and Albert pulled a blanket up over us to keep it warm. The cold flakes stung my cheeks, and the wind whipped the white fluff around so hard it was difficult to see much ahead of us. The snow was covering the ground at an alarming rate.
“I hope all the children make it home,” I worried.
“Mr. Kingman and Mr. Finch are taking the children who live the farthest,” Albert said. “They should be fine.” But he stared straight ahead, his face tense, and I knew he was trying to convince himself as much as me.
About halfway home, I could no longer tell where the path was or what direction we were going. The snow was getting deeper, and I wondered how Albert could tell we were still on track to reach home.
“Are we going to get stranded, Albert?” Mattie spoke up, her voice muffled by the blanket.
“No, Mattie, we won’t get stranded,” Albert replied, but his eyes met mine for a brief moment and I saw the doubt. A cold lump of fear grew in the pit of my stomach.
Dear God, please let us reach shelter, I prayed silently. Even if it wasn’t my home, or the Culliver’s, or Albert’s shanty. Anything would do.
Suddenly, out of the white nothingness, a shadow appeared.
“Albert, what’s that?” I cried out, pointing to the dark lump.
“I do believe it’s a house,” Albert replied. “Can’t say whose, though.”
When we arrived, we found it to be the Perkins house. How we arrived at their place, I don’t know. We must have gotten off course. But I was grateful for shelter, and Chester’s parents gladly let us in. Chester lived in his own shanty now, but his younger sister Nettie was still at home.
Mattie, Albert, and I took off the wet outer garments and warmed up by the fire. Mrs. Perkins prepared hot tea for us, and later gave us a hot meal as well. We passed the time by sharing stories. I must say it was quite entertaining. I learned a little bit about Albert’s life before moving west, and shared some of my own memories. Together we reminisced about the days on the trail, and the Perkinses talked about life in St. Louis, where they had lived prior to moving to Nebraska.
When the time came to go to sleep, Mrs. Perkins gave Albert Chester’s old bed, and Mattie and I squeezed in with Nettie. It was tight, but warm.
The next morning when we woke up, the wind was still howling, and snow was still piling up. Mrs. Perkins prepared a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, and then we began another morning of sitting in the cabin. Albert had brought his knife and wood inside to carve, and Mrs. Perkins settled in with her sewing. She gave me and Mattie some fabric to work with, too, to keep our hands busy.
“What are you working on, Albert?” I ventured to ask. He gave me a quick glance but didn’t pause his calculated motions.
“A chair,” was his brief reply.
“Furnishing a house?” Mr. Perkins inquired.
“I don’t have a house yet,” Albert replied. “But I figured I can start small with a few chairs and a table. That fits in the shanty for now.” I sneaked another glance at Albert out of the corner of my eye, and saw that he had stopped what he was doing to watch me. I sensed that there was a depth of dreams he had about a future with me that he wasn’t telling anyone, but he seemed to be watching me to gauge my reaction. I smiled at him, hoping to communicate without words that I wanted a future with him just as he did with me. He smiled back, and returned to his work.
Later that afternoon, the wind finally stopped, and we looked out, surprised to see that there wasn’t even that much snow. For all the wind and the howling and the freezing cold, I thought there would be at least two feet.
Albert went out to the barn and hitched up the wagon. Mrs. Perkins heated up potatoes to tuck into our pockets for warmth, and then we set out. Albert dropped Mattie off first, and then me, bidding farewell as he turned the wagon towards his land.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
??? that’s awesome! Very very good! I can’t wait for the next update!
And I’m trying to think of suggestions but I’m having a hard time.(I’m afraid I’m not very good at giving suggestions ??) Do you know how you want to end it?
#LALBERT
@vinagirl maybe #LIBERT?
@trailblazer Looks good! Excited for the next part!"Don't shine so that others can see you. Shine so that through you, others can see Him." ~ C.S.L.
I’m not entirely sure how I want to close out the story. At this point I know they’re gonna get married but I don’t know if I want to try to add another conflict in there or something or just wrap it up. I also don’t think weddings were the same back then; I think they were usually more of a quiet family celebration but I haven’t figured out yet how to write that kind of a scene.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
I’m just waiting for Albert to PROPOSE!!!! AHHH the suspense is KILLING ME!
#MakeNahimTakeABreak
(the real ones will know)I’m sorry I don’t have that scene written yet or I would post it lol. I need to find a good way to write it so that it’s sweet and meaningful.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
@savannah_grace2009 @hybridlore
Ok I literally haven’t posted on here in two years, lol. I don’t even know how active y’all are on KP anymore… I’ve kind of popped in and out and read some posts here and there. But I was working on this story again tonight and thought I should add a couple scenes I’ve done more recently. I don’t even know how much you guys are gonna remember from the story… but these scenes are too sweet for me not to share!
First things first, I rewrote the opening so that it reads more like a story within a story, and I think it’s a little smoother that way:
April 1944
Creak, creak, creak. The steady rhythm of the rocking chair on the wooden floor was soothing, consistent. Libbie sighed in contentment, crossing her arms over stomach as she studied the young woman seated in her parlor. Nebraska was a fair distance from Kentucky, and Libbie hadn’t seen her granddaughter much. The pretty young woman with bobbed hair was studying the daguerrotype, sitting on the mantle, of Libbie and her husband when they were much younger. Though years of working in the sun had leathered Libbie’s skin, and lines of laughter had set in her face, the youthful image bore some resemblance to Marilyn.
“I wish I could remember Grandpa,” Marilyn said softly. “He seems like a wonderful man.”
“He was,” Libbie replied. “A bit wild at times, but it kept me on my toes. Reckon I’ve lived a fuller life because of him,” she laughed.
“How did you two meet?” Marilyn asked. “Did you both grow up together here in Nebraska?”
“I didn’t always live in Nebraska,” Libbie replied. “I was born in Pennsylvania. Mama’s family had lived there since before the days of the Revolution.”
Marilyn’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Why did you move?”
Libbie sighed. “When Pa announced we were moving west, I don’t think I fully understood how much my life was about to change. I had heard stories of frontier life, but I was unprepared for the challenges ahead of me. For thirteen years of my life, I lived comfortably with my family in the small Pennsylvania town my mother had grown up in. My closest friends were my cousins, and we lived close enough that we often shared work and spent time playing together in the woods near our homes. Pa farmed, and we made enough of a livelihood to live somewhat comfortably.
The day we left, my whole world changed. I didn’t understand Pa’s reasons for leaving until I was older; he simply declared that he wanted a new start. Only after I was an adult did I learn of the truth: he had many difficult memories from the Civil War, painful memories he wanted to forget. At that time, I only knew we were leaving everything and everyone I’d ever known, and a dull ache filled my heart as I took a last look around the empty shell of a house I had called home for thirteen years….”
And from here, it goes right into the rest of the first scene that you can find back on page 1 of this topic.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
Secondly… this is a new scene I wrote over the past few weeks, from the time of the end of the journey to Nebraska.
As we drew nearer to the land we would settle, the boys found a new favorite pastime: chasing prairie dogs. They would find several holes near each other, and wait quietly in the grass. One of them, often Albert, would poke a stick or throw a rock down their hole, and if a prairie dog popped up one of the other holes, the other boys tried to catch it. They never succeeded, but it was a great source of entertainment.
One evening by the fire, as the last strains of Mr. Culliver’s fiddle gave way to the noises of the night insects, I took a good, long look at the faces around the fire. This journey had been hard, yes, but the hardships had forged deep relationships with the people sitting around the fire with me. The Cullivers felt like another part of my family now, and a tiny part of my heart was sorry that we’d be splitting up soon.
“Etta, can you believe we’re almost there?” I softly asked. Beside me, Etta shook her head.
“I’m ready to have a roof over my head again, though,” she said.
“I dare say, I’m going to miss these nights,” I went on. “All of us, sitting by the fire, with the stars overhead, and your pa playing music. It’s the one sweet spot in all our travels.”
Albert, sitting a few feet to my right, glanced up from the block of wood he was whittling. “We’ll still be neighbors,” he said. “I reckon we’ll see a lot of each other.”
“And we’ll go to school together,” Etta added. Albert made a face, and George, overhearing the comment, let out a groan.
“Why do we have to go to school?” he complained. “I know well enough how to read and write. I think I’d learn more by helping Pa in the fields.”
Albert blew wood shavings off the obscure shape in his hands. “I’m almost done, so I figure one more season won’t be too bad.”
“I reckon not,” Abe agreed. He held a long blade of dry prairie grass to the fire, watching as the flame slowly ate the blade of grass. When it got close to his fingers, he dropped it into the fire and watched the remains burn up.
With a sigh, I glanced up at the full sky of twinkling stars. Soon, my life would change again, but for now, I would enjoy the moment.
On our last night together, we lingered longer around the fire than usual. It seemed that none of us was ready to part ways, signaling the end of a journey and a fresh start in a new place. Clara was the first to break the somber silence and call it a night. Soon after, Mr. Culliver picked up a sleeping Mattie and carried her off to the wagon, and Amelia shuffled a sleepy-eyed Oscar in the same direction. One by one, members of the family drifted off, but I was loathe to leave the fire. Only Albert remained with me, silently carving the finishing touches on the piece of wood he’d been working on all week. We sat in silence, my eyes glued to the dwindling flames while my chin rested on my knees.
With a satisfied sigh, Albert snapped shut his pocket knife, and turned the piece of wood over in his hands. He cast a sideways glance in my direction, then slowly extended his hand with the carving of a bird perched atop.
“Here, Libbie, I made this for you,” he said. Warily, I took the delicate carving and examined it. Though it was small, Albert had put a lot of detail into it. I looked up and opened my mouth to say thank you, but Albert spoke again.
“Maybe one day you can give that to our grandchildren and tell them about the journey we took from Pennsylvania to Nebraska,” he said. A bubbling frustration rose up in my chest, and I clenched my fingers around the little bird. The audacity of Albert to say such a thing!
“You want to know what I think about that, Albert?” On impulse, I threw the wooden bird into the fire before Albert could respond. The instant the bird hit the flames and the fire flared, I regretted it. Albert’s mouth dropped open in shock, and I could read the hurt on his face. All the work he’d put into carving that bird… gone in a matter of moments. I rubbed my forehead, feeling the prick of guilt in my conscience. I knew I should apologize for my rashness, but I was still angry about his comment.
Albert finally looked at me. In the reflection of the fire, I could see the hurt in his eyes. “Libbie,” he began softly. Then he shook his head, heaved a sigh, and stood to his feet, starting towards the Culliver wagon.
“Albert, wait.”
He stopped, a few feet away.
“I’m sorry for throwing your bird into the fire,” I said. “You worked hard on it, and I had no right to do that.”
Silence. At last, I heard a quiet, “I forgive you,” and then Albert turned and disappeared into the night.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
And the most recently added scene, which finally came together… I don’t really know if this is the end of the story yet or not, but I’d love your thoughts on this scene!
I was mending a skirt one warm May afternoon when the sound of a wagon approaching drew my attention. Mama peered out the window, flour still coating her hands, and looked at me with a smile.
“It’s Albert.”
“Albert? Whatever would he be doing here in the middle of the day?” I wondered aloud. Setting my mending aside, I reached the door and opened it before Albert could knock. A grin spread across his face when he saw me, like the grin of a schoolboy let out of the school at the end of the day.
“Do come in, Albert,” Mama called out from behind me. “Don’t just stand there.”
Albert took off his hat and stepped into the house. He drew in a deep breath. “It smells good in here,” he said.
“I’m making bread,” Mama explained. “It won’t be ready quite yet, though, or I’d offer you a piece.”
“That’s okay,” Albert said. “I’ve come for Libbie anyway. I have something I want to show you,” he spoke to me directly.
“What is it?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“Come with me and find out.” Albert grinned again. Mama gave me a smile and a nod, and soon enough I was in the wagon with Albert, rattling off in the direction of the Culliver and Perkins farms. As we bounced along the dirt path, prairie grass waving along the sides of the wagon, Albert reached his hand into his pocket.
“I have something for you,” he said. Wrapping the reins around his boot so his hands were free, he withdrew from his pocket a little wooden bird. Instantly I could see the two of us sitting by the fire on the prairie, another little wooden bird going up in flames. I knew Albert had carved this second one for me, and I also knew that each scrape of the knife on the wood must have reminded him of what I had done to the first one.
“Can I trust you with this gift?” Albert asked softly, placing it in my hand and wrapping both of his around mine. His earnest eyes met mine, and I felt tears welling up.
“Someday,” I said softly, “This little bird will sit on the mantle of our home, and we will tell our grandchildren how we endured hardships together and eventually fell in love. Albert, I’m sorry I ever burned that first little bird all those years ago.”
A small smile broke out on Albert’s face, and by the slight dimple in his cheek and the moisture in his eyes, I could tell he was fighting with his emotions. “You came around after all,” he said, “And that’s what matters. I love you, Libbie Hopkins.”
“I love you, too, Albert Culliver.” Keeping the little bird tight within my grasp, I wove my arm through Albert’s and leaned my head on his shoulder. Albert drew in a deep breath and picked up the reins again.
A short time later, a wooden house came into view, and I sat up straighter, trying to recognize the homestead.
“Whose place is this?” I asked aloud as we drew nearer. Albert didn’t respond, but a slow smile grew on his face. When he made eye contact with me, I knew. It was his. Ours.
I stayed quiet until Albert pulled the horse to a stop in front of the humble one-story wooden frame. It may have been small, but it looked sturdy, and it was more than most settlers were able to build, at least at first. Albert jumped down from the wagon, reaching up to help me down. Even when I had both feet firmly planted on the ground, he wouldn’t let go of my hand.
“This is my place,” Albert spoke at last. “But I hope it someday will be ours. I hardly think I even need to ask, but I learned my lesson the last time I presumed how you felt about me. So Libbie… will you marry me?”
Something in me broke, and tears poured down my face again. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be saying this… but yes, Albert, I will marry you!”
Releasing my hand, Albert let out a whoop and tossed his hat into the air. Without bothering to see where it landed, he turned and swept me up in his arms, laughing with glee. After spinning me around two or three times, he set me back on my feet and retrieved his hat, brushing off the dust.
“I think I’m the happiest man alive, Libbie,” he told me. “After you turned me down the way you did, I didn’t think I’d ever have you… but God redeems.”
“Who knows what I would have missed if He hadn’t changed my heart,” I reflected. I took his hand. “Well, are you going to show me the house?”
Albert laughed again, leading the way to the door. We stepped inside, and I marveled at the sanded floorboards. It was more than I could have asked for from any man on the prairie.
“I told you my wife won’t be living with the spiders and snakes,” Albert said. “Does it please you?”
“Very much,” I agreed, looking over the space. “It’s even partially furnished.”
“Well, I am living in it,” Albert said. “It’s just missing the touch of a woman.”
I walked over to the fireplace and brushed dust from the mantle. I lifted the little wooden bird and set it down where it had a view of the main room. “There.” I stepped back in satisfaction. “Right where it belongs.”
Albert slipped his arm around my waist. “It’s perfect.”
I smiled. It really was.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
oh my goodnessss!!!!
I can’t believe you’re here! I gasped out loud when I got the notification, like that’s so crazy! I’ve missed you! And I need to reread this story, it was so good!!! I still remember parts of it, and I remember I loved it! <3
Good to have you back! What’s life been like since you’ve dropped off the face of the earth hahahaha
#MakeNahimTakeABreak
(the real ones will know)Lol it doesn’t even feel like I dropped off the face of the earth because I’ve haunted the background now and then, but I really did just kinda disappear! I don’t remember when the last was that I talked to you so hopefully I’m not telling you something you already knew… but if I do, oh well.
I think I had posted a year and a half ago that I was leaving for a five-month discipleship training school with YWAM, which was amazing! I’m pretty sure I also popped back on again about a year ago, after I got back, because I started working on another historical fiction (which is still only like two chapters long lol). I was working full-time, as well as being involved with youth ministry at church, so I wasn’t doing as much writing, which is kinda why I drifted off of here again. And then last summer I went back to YWAM for their course in foundations in counseling ministry, which was three months, and that was probably one of the best seasons of my life! I’ve been home again for close to six months, but it’s been a bit of a whirlwind of working and processing everything God has been doing and trying to discern what’s next, so it felt like some of my creative flow was shut off for a little while. But honestly I feel like I’ve grown so much in the past year and a half, and I’m so thankful for all the blessings God has poured into my life!
How are you doing?
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
@trailblazer
Hi sorry I also dropped off the face of the earth that is KP for a hot minute! I’m FINALLY gonna respond to you lolThat’s so cool! Do you think you’ll do missions full time, or was it more of just a good experience that taught you a lot? Do you know what you want to do now that you’re home?
What was one of the impactful things God taught you?
This past year has been very difficult for me but also very impactful as well. I don’t know how much you’ve stalked KP so you may have seen this already, but I lost my mom to cancer back in November. It’s been so hard. My mom wasn’t perfect, but she was my best friend and a wonderful person. She loved the Lord so much, and I will miss her forever. I haven’t written my novel for forever , but this weekend I’ve been getting back into it! I’ve been able to empathize with my characters on a whole new level, and it’s given me a fresh perspective. A couple months ago I wondered if I’d ever write again, and now I’m doing it! One word at a time, lol
I have no idea if I’ll ever finish a novel, and honestly I don’t really care haha. It’s just fun to create something and tell a story, even if no one ever reads it. For the first time it feels like I’m writing for ME, and it’s so freeing!!
#MakeNahimTakeABreak
(the real ones will know)That’s so cool! Do you think you’ll do missions full time, or was it more of just a good experience that taught you a lot? Do you know what you want to do now that you’re home?
I don’t think I’ll do missions full time (I mean if God asks me to then who am I to say no? But I haven’t sensed Him asking me that to this point), but I do love getting glimpses of other cultures and how God is moving around the world, so I have a feeling I’ll probably be involved to some extent. In this stage of life, I have the freedom to be able to hop in and out of missions assignments without having to take into consideration a husband or children, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up doing shorter-term things over the next few years, being in and out of the country. Long-term, though, I’d like to eventually settle down in my hometown and pour back into the community that has invested so much into me! (Even after I get married and have kids, though, I think doing short missions trips as a family would be fun!)
Being home again honestly has been challenging, because God has put me in more of a sabbatical season, pulling me out of ministry things I was previously doing and forcing me to slow down and rest. I know it’s good for me and it’s not forever; this season will end and I won’t always be in a place of letting the ground rest, but it’s definitely been refining me and exposing the areas of my heart where I was finding identity in what I do rather than in who I am as a daughter of God. For now, I’m just working in food service about 30 hours a week and helping with the Bible quizzing program at my church, which ends in a few weeks, and then life will slow down even more.
What was one of the impactful things God taught you?
The major thing I learned through my first school with YWAM was to center my life around Jesus- not just putting Him first on a priority list (although that is important) but involving Him in literally every area of my life. I discovered so much more joy and contentment when I was living from a place of abiding in Him! Through the second school, I learned a lot about establishing boundaries especially with responsibility- learning to take ownership for what is my responsibility, and not taking other people’s responsibilities on my own shoulders or trying to take responsibility for fixing other people’s problems when they need to take responsibility for that themselves. I also learned a lot about how we tend to set idealistic expectations for ourselves and others, and while it is good to reach for a goal, we cannot expect ourselves to achieve perfection or hold others to a standard of perfection especially when we’re not measuring up to that ourselves. So in summary, in the first school I learned a lot in the spiritual aspect, and in the second school (while it was also from a Biblical perspective) I learned more in the emotional and psychological aspect.
I did happen to see that your mom passed! I’m so sorry to hear that! It’s a lot to adjust to, and I know your mom’s shoes are pretty big to fill! I feel you with trying to write in a season of grief- it can be so hard! I haven’t lost anyone as close to me as a family member, but I have been in seasons of grieving other things before, and it’s always so hard for me to write anything during those times. For some people, writing is therapy, but for me it always felt like my creativity was blocked up when my emotions were so raw! I could journal but that was about it. Honestly though, I’m thankful for the really hard seasons, because I’ve encountered God in ways I haven’t in other seasons, and it sounds like you’ve been learning a lot through everything you’ve had to walk through in the past year. Praying God will continue to meet you in the midst of hard days and give you the strength you need!
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.