Gosh, it took a village to birth that trip.
And it took the trip to birth new passions in me.
And the part that so many people played in it all – isn’t lost or forgotten here.
I’d love to flip their palms upward and fill their generous, loving hands with all things pleasant and good.
I’ve come back with a new peeked interest in the power of the pen on the whole of mankind.
And I’ve got a fresh seedy purpose…
One that feels somewhat foreign and far off and too big and kinda unknown – but deeply rooted in a sure foundation that’s lasting.
For all this…. I’m profoundly bowed and grateful.
I’m about to close out this string of postings here.
But before I bid adieu to this series, I must share one more thing.
A few days ago – with Europe far and fleeing and all things home hovering and nipping…
I escaped to the back patio for a moments reprieve.
I cracked open the poetry book* I’m currently working my way through…and Steve Turner’s piece Make Me Poet Laureate was on cue.
I would post it here for you, but I don’t want to violate any crazy copyright laws. I’m confused on how they work and what is permissible and what isn’t.
I’m also a rule keeper on things of this nature, and so I’ll have to beg you to go find a copy of this poem yourself. It aligns and resonates so deeply in my spirit, and it speaks so clearly about the inklings I’ve been receiving about the pen.
It even mentions the very specific causes that the Lord put on my heart so fiercely while in Bournemouth.
What sweet, sure confirmation.
And the author?
Of course he is.