The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, he rescues the poor in spirit.

Psalm 34

We began our Sunday morning service this morning singing that refrain as our call to worship. A lament and a hopeful cry reanimate the words of Psalm 34 and a call to each of us as the dark becomes darker and covers more of our days. A call to remind us that we may wallow in the past, or the present, or a future we can no longer imagine, but the Lord is near – ready to rescue each us poor in spirit with hearts broken.

A week ago, I had the opportunity to take part in a writing retreat with the women of The Redbud Writer’s Guild. This was my first writing retreat, my first time to Mt. Hermon, and one of very few women’s retreats I’ve attended. I held an even balance of skepticism and nervous anxiety, and diligently worked myself into the background planning so as to actively carve out safe space for my introverted, cynical self to find spaces to watch rather than engage; read: I made spaces to hide myself so I wouldn’t have to engage or feel less than in a space where I knew I wouldn’t fit in. My case? Imposter syndrome. Clearly, this group of well-connected, widely published, women would see through my “I’m a writer” guise, and I would need the space to hide.

Were my concerns rooted in reality and did I need those spaces? I report here that I did not.

I am not a heart on my sleeve, story on my lips kind of gal. I like to listen and hear stories and hearts and see how I can lift them up, but I know I don’t like to share my own. I have opinions, and if you know me, you know I’ll give them unapologetically (or sort of apologetically), but I will give them, but I don’t like taking up the space that can clearly be used for better things. In a group of near 40 women I’d only met and exchanged words with online, I found people who could see through me. I found friends where I wasn’t looking for them – women who listened and heard what I said, and read right through the lines, speaking truth into the spaces I had left unfilled, truths I did not divulge, truth I needed to hear, and still don’t know what to do with.

When the opportunity to join a writing circle during our retreat arose, I joined one in which I am not published. I did not choose memoir, nor non-fiction, though for the most part, this is what I write. I joined Children’s literature, and I brought my story. I drafted a children’s story early 2020 and it weighs constantly on my mind. I attempted in 2021 to query a few agents and submit my story, but heard nothing. Feeling lost in the writing world, lost in understanding, I tucked my story away, but have never stopped wanting to move forward with that concept, that story. During the writing circle time of our retreat, I had the opportunity to read, hear, and give feedback to other stories, to beautiful stories that revealed how diverse and how unified each human story really is. It was such a neat experience. And friends, I was treated as if I belonged. The imposter syndrome that stood at the door for each of us within that room had to be put outside, because not a single woman there was having any of it – we were there to share, to cheer on, to give feedback and critique, and we were there on even ground, each with a story in our heart and on our papers. It was so much fun.

That story I shared is actually the reason I joined the Redbud Guild to begin with. At the behest of a friend, I applied and of all things was accepted to this guild, seeking a network of editors, publishers, published authors, from whom I hoped to glean all of the publishing wisdom. I found all of those things, but I also found a group of fiercely faithful women who proclaim God’s glory while worshipping in different places, spaces, traditions, and with various understandings of the theological underpinnings of the world. I found women willing to share hard and hopeful truths side by side, who unabashedly wrote of their struggles without a moral or an answer to their own stories. Seeing words and stories in print, meeting people on Zoom another, but meeting and being present – fully present, for an entire weekend – an unexpected and humbling gift. No posturing, no pretense, just writers who believe one story of the whole world and try in earnest to create in ways that honor their creator.

Those women, that retreat, time for resting and praying and reminders of why I want to write (I never did actually get time to write while there, ha!), were examples to me of how the Lord is near to the brokenhearted, how He’s actively rescuing my poor spirit, even when I don’t know I need rescuing. Whether in retreat, or in a moment in our day to day, we need these reminders that life is not a race to be won, but one in which we have been blessed to live and love and seek love and peace for each other. No posturing, no pretense, no need to carve out a hiding space.

Books and Books and Books

After this Redbud Retreat, and because I love books, love to read, love it when I find places where other books are recommended. I will be adding to each post a section where I talk about other people’s books. If you’re reading something you love, please share!

Books I’ve been Reading (Listening):

I drive a lot for work and so I end up listening to audiobooks rather than sitting down to read all of the words. I love the feel of a book in hand and the pages as I read, I love the strain in my shoulders and hands as I try to read just a little more before bed, but audiobooks have saved my reading life, and so I recommend the following two books in their audio forms, as that is the way I’ve experienced them. Their prose is gorgeous and their readers are fabulous.

Books I’m looking out for (Links Ready for Pre-Order!)

What are you reading or looking forward to reading?