Evidence of Grace

Evidence of Grace

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Empty House, Empty Heart

So, I realized lately that I haven't been writing at all, I mean, sure, I write in my journal about what's happening in life, I write notes to friends and relatives, I craft tweets, update status', and even shoot texts. But as far as writing from the heart, the way I used to be so passionate about, I haven't. Perhaps it's my hectic schedule, lack of down time, or just the place in life I am when everyone and everything around me seems to be screaming, "What now?" "What next?" "Where to go?" And somehow in the chaos of life, trying to figure this all out I am brought back here, to the the one place where I really, truly, and honestly can answer those questions and be reminded of who I am. Here, on this January night, I am slipping back into the old familiarity of what it feels like to see fresh ink dance across the empty pages of my once bland Journal and witness it come back to life for the first time in a really long time.   

I am a writer, I will always be a writer, it's what makes me thrive, it's what brings me back. Sometimes we just need a little help and a small taste to remind me of the freedom I am capable of experiencing. 

Tonight I lit a half burnt candle that scented my room with the sweet aroma of cinnamon from a very dear friend. I reached for my matches, threw on my pajamas, flicked off the light, and crawled into my comfy bed, pen in hand and Hot Coco an arm's length away. As the flame of the candle shine as the solo light amidst my dark room shadows danced across the walls and ceiling. The slightest bit of wind swayed the light but it stayed lit, it was still there, and it still shown into the darkness. 

I remember when I received that candle, the first time I light it the flame was high and bright, there was just the rim of the crystal clear jar to taint the glow. But over time the wax melted from the heat and the flame began to be consumed by the jar. As the candle burned the jar acquired a cloudy haze that eventually turned into a black as midnight soot that bared witness to the constant flame. The light became less vibrant, yet it still burned. 

Sometimes I feel like this candle. Lately I feel like it ever day. My flame was so bright when it began to burn, when I got that new job, that new car, that new relationship, or even that new ambition; But, over time, that flame leaves a residue on my once crystal clear life. The soot slowly blurs my vision and vibrancy. It's in these situations that I always want to give up. But we need to not forget that this only means our flame is indeed burning. Sure, we need to take time to stop and clean out our jar and make things clear again but this is a good sign, not a bad one. The soot in our lives bares witness to the fact that we are still burning, we are still giving off light, and even though we might think it isn't as bright, it is light. Just like that candle in the night, we might be the only light someone has in their life. 

In 2011 I tried to figure myself out, I tried so hard that I ended up losing myself in ever single way. I have forgotten who I am, who's I am, and why I am. I haven't been taking time to clean the sides of my jar in order to let more light through. I have been trying to settle into my new reality and figure out this crazy thing called life. I've always hated New Year's Resolutions, I think you should set goals and set them daily. But this year I have decided to set a New Year's Dedication, this year I have decided to dedicate to re-finding myself, reminding myself, rededicating myself, and reassuring myself that I am a strong, confident, independent, princess of the King and no one can change that. 

I am deciding that my song for this year is The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert, the chorus goes like this,

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave
Holding nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

 It is only appropriate that this is my song because this year, on Christmas Eve my parents took us all back to the house we grew up. We saw our hand prints in the driveway, ran through the empty house, sat in an empty living room, and, for myself, brought an empty heart. Yet somehow in all the emptiness there was love, forgiveness, grace, and hope overflowing. There was such a peace in that cold and empty house that I haven't found anywhere else, ever. Thank you mom and dad for taking us to Travor Street! St, I'm letting "this little light of mine shine," and am not letting anyone blow out my hope, my passion, my confidence, or my flame. 
This was always where we sat together...

..... and almost 21 years later we still loved sitting by the old heater, even though it was off. 


  1. Yeaaah, Sister!
    Love your heart and how it shines through in your writing. Thanks for encouraging my heart tonight through your writing. Beautiful imagery.
    Love you, Kenz! <3

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

  3. I am bawling. I love watching God work in and through you. Keep writing Kenna. Two more days!!!! Can't wait to see you.