• scribed after the longest and quickest day ever •
• finished scribing 3 days later over an autumn tea latte •
& cue the teary eyes,
Gabrielle
I have the strongest desire to write lately. I have so many thoughts I don't know how to keep them all wrapped up in this head of mine. A lot of my writings have been in personal journals which has been very good...but there's also a part of me that wants to continue to share with other people where I am and what's going on in life. Connection. Fellowship. Coffee dates. Lunch dates. Two minute elevator chats. We all have a story to tell. I'm an artist. An actress. A documentarian of sorts (still figuring that one out). Telling my story or helping to tell the stories of others is a deep inset desire and almost natural reaction to the life I live day by day. So my friends...here's my story for today.
I have one question that I have been consistently asking God the past almost 5 months: "What are you doing?" This is not accusatory. This is not disrespectful. This is my declaration, that my life is not my own and I don't always have a grip on reality. This is my humility. This question comes about when I'm on the road with hours between point A and point B. It has come about when I find myself celebrating the matrimony of two beloved friends. It comes as I'm floating down a river, the tips of my fingers grazing the waters. It comes when I'm sitting down one-on-one with a friend, laughing till we both cry. It happens when everything is still, silent, and stable. It came about when I hiked through the Rocky Mountains through the rain and amongst some of the most breath taking scenery. It happens when someone I love has been hurt and I'm infuriated by the injustice of it all. It comes when something ends just as soon as it began. When my worlds are colliding and I'm not so sure we aren't all more connected than we think. It happens when I begin to discover new things about myself. This question is the heart behind all of my hello's, and especially my goodbyes.
Sometimes the question is whispered...and other times the question is screamed within the four doors of my little Ford Fusion. Let's be real. This is not the only question I'm asking right now but it's most definitely the question at the foundation of all my other unending questions. This question requires a lot of patience. It's not one that is always quickly or easily answered. It's a bit of good ol' character building. I had such a lovely conversation with a new friend of mine last evening. Lauren Stonestreet and I talked about photography and film and all that comes with being in your 20's and asking this question. She mentioned her perspective in the process of stretching, asking deep and challenging questions of herself and the Lord is that she is like a new wineskin. She is being stretched and prepared for the new unfermented wine to be poured in. There's an important process and preparation for new wine. You cannot pour new wine into an old wineskin because it would burst. It's all about that carbon dioxide and such. There's a pretty good explanation of it online here. Any who, Lauren and I talking couldn't have been more appointed. I may have started to tear up as we talked (I kinda get like that over things I'm passionate about). I'm pretty sure I drowned out all the noise of the late night pizza bar scene that was playing every popular early 2000's pop song known to man. Talk about middle school dance flashbacks!
I don't have a lot of answers. I'm not going to lie, sometimes it's really uncomfortable to not have answers. I don't like to meditate on the fact that I don't have the answers I might desire to have. Bitterness leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I've experienced way too many people around me who fall into bitterness and it eventually starts to consume them. It makes me sad for them. I don't want that. So I will ask my question. Whenever it may surface in whatever form or fashion it may come about. I'll ask expectantly but not expecting. The one answer I have that brings me peace through the waiting is the Lord's all-knowing and promising response of: "Oh my sweet Gabrielle, just you wait and see."
Gabrielle
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| • Fall 2014 • |
