Because writing, I reminded myself, is never really about my story primarily. It’s about the intersection of lives.
Poetry, to me, has always seemed like a second language. I can learn to read it, learn to interpret it, but though I enjoy finding and using creative turns of phrase and well-placed metaphors where I see them, I still naturally think of a table as a table first, rather than as, say, an “elevated platform for family gathering and nourishment.”
How many times in life do we get lost in the climb, turn our focus inward to our own pain and struggle and forget to stop, pray, and look out around us at the beauty in the work God is doing?
God's righteousness is the security we need in our unpredictable lives.
Despite the differences in their situations – the unlikely pregnancy of an old woman who bore the shame of barrenness for years and the completely impossible pregnancy of a young unwed virgin – these two women faced many of the same challenges as first-time mothers.
I began to understand that art dealing with the dark and messy aspects of life was not only allowable, but a gift. Maybe using art to bring light to the darkness is something God had intended all along.