Mosaic

If you could see how I journal, you would understand a bit better the rhyme and reason behind how I post on my blog.  Right now, I have 3 journals that I write in.  The red one started out as my prayer journal.  The black one started out as a place to write the words in it the Lord has been giving me, or to record instances where the Lord showed up.  The brown leather bound one was supposed to be for writing lines or poems or phrases that would come to me as I was out and about and needed a place to put them before I forgot them. 
Then there are the odd scraps of paper or pieces of torn out notebooks that seem to make their way into piles.  Some of them I stick in the pocket of the back of my black journal for safekeeping.  Also, there are several journals that I have begun over the last few years and yet haven't used up all the space in them, so from time to time it just feels right to place something I'm writing in the empty pages. 
I try to date stuff.  But I'm really bad at it.  Even when I do there are times when I don't put a year, and because I skip around so much it is hard to have a very good sense of chronology about anything.  And then, I'm not real good at structure.  OK, the truth is I hate most structure...though I do try to put some in our lives.  I like to feel my way through things, especially my writing. So of course prayers end up in the black journal and poems in the red journal and words are all over the place.
So when the Lord and I started to talk about the possibility of compiling my writings, there were a few issues.  OK, I'll say it more plainly.  There was no way I could even attempt to put all my writings in any sense of order and on top of that, there are so many holes in my story because I know the Lord is not asking me to share all of my journey with the world. 
I began to panic every time I would think about the task before me, and finally the Lord told me something very comforting. 
He said, "It can be a mosaic." 
(Read HUGE Sigh of Relief)
So if you are a bit confused about how I stop and start certain writings and stories, then don't fear.  At some point, when it seems right and I feel led to, I'll probably come back around to it.
A mosaic is about taking all the shattered pieces of stained glass and gathering them together into a beautiful design that reflects light through a work of art....in this case my life.
Reminds me of a poem I wrote after Dr. Kempton's funeral called "Fragile".
It was posted on Deep Calls Jan. 16, 2008.

Grace's Fragments

Photo by Bgrace

Fragile

Like the bucket of seashells the girls and I collected

Pearl-white with purple edges, buffed smooth by sand and wave

Pushed beyond the receding tide and left to adorn the shoreline

Porcelain curves revealing their intimate secrets

and untold stories

Fragile

As the widow’s countenance that broke into smile and tear

At the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the sight of an old friend

Comforted by one as she consoled another in shared grief

Unspoken understanding evoking cherished memories

and unfinished dreams

Fragile

Like the stained-glass pieces of my faith that stare at me

Sometimes green, sometimes red; broken bits with razor sharp edges

Pieced together into a wordless mosaic of confusion and perception

Dull and tilted shapes awaiting rays of light to permeate their transcendent beauty

and unrevealed glory