by Karen Condit
(Psalm 84:5, NIV).
I am on pilgrimage. Not to Mecca, but a much harder journey. My pilgrimage heads through the land of writing. Some days land me in a desert experience—dry, wordless, thin. Others lead me along paths of joy and peace, with gentle streams where words flow and my heart sings. The harshest of days come when an oasis—a longing which seemed within reach—fades as a heartbreaking mirage into the hard ground of my circumstances .
Doubts surface. Hopes are dashed. Where am I? What am I doing here?
When the heat of this writing pilgrimage weighs heavy, I want to turn around and go home. Back to the familiar. More predictable. Back to something I can hold, check off my list, or keep on my shelf and dust (as much as I loathe dusting). Some things prod me onward—the savory words, the power of story, the jottings of life for my soul and someone else’s. But these motivations prove so elusive. So slow. So unpredictable. So . . . so frustrating!
Then I stop. I remember the someone behind the words, the stories, the food for the soul. The One who set me on this journey. The One who enables. My Strength when I am weak. My pilgrim-maker.
I will keep traveling in this land of writing, blessed and enabled with the strength of the One who set my heart on this journey. I will go from strength to strength (Psalm 84:7). I will put one word in front of the other.
I am on pilgrimage.
Father, thank you that you have set my heart to write. Give me strength to keep going when I’m discouraged. Give me words to write when I am dry. Give me clarity each step of the way so you are glorified. Thank you that you go with me and I am not alone. Amen.