Do you feel the nudging inside you to take action? Do you know what you are to be doing, but fearful to take the next step? You are not alone.
The Bud
For years, no matter where I moved, a colorful magnet was a constant fixture on my fridge. It read, “And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” This phrase was penned by Anais Nin, an author who was not exactly a bastion of wholesome purity. But her simple statement served as a powerful reminder: I too contained a bud, a story, that one day would flower into something beautiful to behold. But for far too long, my story remained an unfurled bud. My depression was a frost in spring. As it stung my petals with its bitter cold, I drew them back into my sheath so as not to feel a thing.
The Knot
I’ve known for a long time that one day I’d write my family’s memoir. But the undertaking felt so daunting that I could never fully wrap my head around how to begin. How does one recollect, let alone accurately redact, all the details of a lifetime? There were far too many tangled strands of story lines. The intricate braiding and painful upbraiding of my unconventional upbringing. The unsightly split ends and splitting of hairs caused by my folks’ radical life choices and failing relationship. Not to mention the rigidly combed parting of social isolation and the starched white bonnet covering of my fledgling faith.
The Unraveling
My story, like so many of our stories, consists of innumerable loops. Its strands, so tightly wound, that the painstaking process of picking them apart presented an impossible mental knot to untie. But the Lord is beginning to unravel the intertwined mess to unveil the underlying beauty. And He knows every hair on my head.
But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.
Luke 12:7
The Nudges
Within the last month, the Holy Spirit has nudged me to begin writing. Some nudges have been gentle; others more direct. One of the first nudges came during a sermon my pastor gave called “Creative.” In it, he quoted Psalm 139: 13-14, “For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”
I’ve always loved the gentle image this scripture summons: God’s warm light hovering over a babe in its mother’s rounded belly. But this time, the take away for me was very personal: the epiphany set in that God has already written my whole story! He fashioned my petals, wrapped each one into the bud in my mother’s womb, and continues to cultivate my growth in ways I cannot even comprehend. He sees me as one of His marvelous works and longs for me to fully blossom! If that same God, through His Holy Spirit, now is nudging me and promising to lead and guide me perfectly, how can I not respond?!
God has already written my whole story! He fashioned my petals, wrapped each one into the bud in my mother’s womb, and continues to cultivate my growth in ways I cannot even comprehend. Click To Tweet
Gentle Nudges
The next nudge came the following day during a pleasantly lazy afternoon conversation on my screened in porch with my mother in law. Prompted by her simple questions, I was flooded with vivid memories of how my family had survived throughout my way-off-the-grid childhood. The petals of my story began to open. In one memory, I was holding up a large, lightweight screen to winnow wheat and then watch the soft chaff gently drift away. In another, my dad looked like an astronaut as he donned his beekeeping suit. As if slightly defying gravity, he softly and silently floated through the white boxed beehives. It was like watching magic to see him squeeze the smoker bellows, putting the honey bees to sleep before gently coaxing the treasured honeycomb from their hive.
Harder Nudges
Later that evening, more tightly wrapped petals of my story reluctantly revealed their edges: the fear I felt crouched in the dark shadows under the kitchen table as my parents screamed and violently flailed their arms at one another. And some of the thorny tips of my story’s stem pricked my heart. Like the night my mom, in a fit of rage, threw my beloved storybook Bible into the open flames of our wood heating stove. As my mind’s eye saw the edges of each sheet begin to curl, then smoke, then burn, it’s as if the Holy Spirit were restoring the pages of my own story. He was reminding me that because it has weathered strong winds of abuse and neglect, nearly drowned in rainy seasons of sorrow, and thirsted for life in the drought of depression, the little flower He fashioned is nothing short of a fearful, wonderful, marvelous work!
Laying It on Thick
A barrage of other nudges have come almost daily…
A pillow talk with my husband about hope and desire.
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.
Proverbs 13: 12
My friend’s testimony at a ladies’ Bible study. She shared how the Holy Spirit inspired her to write a book of historical fiction, weaving her personal testimony throughout the story.
A sermon from my pastor’s wife about “Holy Imagination” and how the Lord, “…is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” (Ephesians 3:20).
Another sermon called “Inspiration,” in which my pastor described how the Holy Spirit inspires and anoints us to do things we can’t do in our natural strength or intellect. He literally even said the words: “Maybe God is inspiring you to write a book that will bless others through the power of God and His Holy Spirit!” At that point I was like, “Come on Lord. You’re laying it on pretty thick!”
The Last Straw
And the last straw came a few weeks ago over coffee with my new friend, Rachael. She asked about my story, and I spent the next hour sharing many of the memories I’d been thinking about for a memoir. As our time was ending, she asked me if I might consider writing for her blog. For over a decade, I’ve written nothing more than short song lyrics and grocery lists. But feeling the nudge, I said, “Sure, I’d love to!”
Awake, O Sleeper
It’s as if I’ve been tightly balled up in that bud, restlessly sleeping, and someone has been nudging me to wake up. The bud would feel the spring’s soft rain and warm sunshine but quickly seek shade from an overhead limb. I would pull the covers back over my head. But the Light is softly stroking my hair. The songbirds outside my window are perched on the budding branches, chirping their early spring refrain: “It’s time to rise and shine!”
Wherefore, he saith, ‘Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.’
Ephesians 5:14
Have you been spiritually asleep in a certain area of your life? Do you have a bud inside of you that longs to be exposed to the Light and refreshed with Living Water? How is He nudging you?
