In early November, I went to California for a writers retreat. There were only four students and the woman leading the retreat. I learned so much and hung out with a few other wonderful writers. And yet, the poem below is what I wrote the first night after our opening session.
The next day I read it to one of my new writer friends, a woman who has been on this writing journey for a lot less time than I have. She was touched because she had been feeling inadequate and that the rest of us were so much more accomplished than she was.
I do love when God allows me to remember the dark night of the soul in a way that brings cheer and blessing to others.
Why so downcast, Oh my soul? I understand the psalmist's plea. Here I am with new friends of gold But feelings of sadness needle me. Am I just a fraud pretending to be One who has something worthwhile to say? When truth be told, or a lie of old, Never will I point to God's way. How I feel runs hot and cold; Now I am weak when once I was bold. Powerless and useless are words I hear Echoing deep in my mind as fear. Wounds that run deep still bleed I know they're not true, never were. But still, still these words Oh Lord. You are the truth, the life, the way.
Broken Believers 