A place.
Of memories, of hopes, of dreams, of prayers: a place.
Started an early draft of stories and ideas in December for a new book. Returning to the place in July. Hearing Anna Ruby Falls provide percussion. Seeing the scenery, taking the steps, enjoying the noise.
Comparing winter to summer. Recalling fall and spring.
A place.
Distinguishing the release of initial sentences and paragraphs to a book ready to be held by hands on October 1. A book about books. A book about the places each book met me and took me. A book about how pages of the past guided my walks toward this day, this summer, this heat, this rain, this person I have become.
The water continues hurrying down at Anna Ruby Falls. Her two falls in one place—like life, when disappointments and wounds flood with healing and hope.
I stroll on a sidewalk of memories, hearing my steps.
I write in a room of solitude, recalling initial paragraphs.
I stare at Anna Ruby Falls, pondering why this place is the wardrobe I chose to start writing my twelfth book.
I rest, I remember, I read, I pray.
Continuity. Movement. Processing. Change.
A place.
Of tears and scars. Of meals and steps. Of remembering what was handed down to me. Of writing what I hope to hand down to others.
Places reveal. They remind. They alarm. They plot. They trigger.
Places smile. They nod. They invite. They sing. They soothe.
This place has done all of those for me. This place continues doing all of those for me.
When I needed them then.
As I’m needing them now.
A place to begin writing a book about books. A place to read a book about what the books did, and continue doing.
Where is your place, your Anna Ruby Falls? What is the story you are handing down?
Honestly my place used to be in a public lobby where all my friends were but I never really dived into my studies and learned anything. My new place is sitting in the comfort of my own room. There’s hardly anything that can severely distract me like I used to be. I love my new place I am comfortable and I actually study my work and get it done on time.
I have many places, with friends, in nature by myself, and with my family. I am just not sure my story will ever be told, I am not sure I want it to be told. My place has chaos and solitude. It has sorrow and beauty in it. It holds me in it. My place changes just like my story. Some chapters have yet to be written and some places have yet to be found. Thank you for sharing your place.
The thought of a special place full of memories is a little bittersweet for me right now. When I return home after this semester, I will be moving into a new house, and it’s exciting but I am sad to say goodbye. I have lived in the same house since I was two so the idea of that place being gone is hard. Like the two falls of Anna Ruby the excitement and tears flow side by side. It’s not just about the physical place though it’s a realization that I’m not still the child that lived there, I may never again live with my sister under the same roof and growing up is hard.
I don’t think I have just one place. There have been so many places that I’ve been in solitude and with friends, with family, with sounds, and with silence. I find myself in my car at times, in public lobbies, walking around the halls of my church, or in the confines of my room. I have times of joy and sorrow in these places but they show my story. My story is still being written as there’s so much to write, so many more places to go and so much more beauty to be shown even in the bad parts. I want what God’s been doing in my story to be written in bold across it.
One of my “places” has been the Blue Ridge Parkway–now it has become pretty much anywhere away from the noise and chaos of life usually somewhere out in nature. The Parkway for me was a place of escape and refuge. The vulnerable and heart-wrenching prayers I cried out to the Lord here are innumerable. The story I hope to hand down is one of hope. I hope one day I like you will be able to hand down this story of hope in writing.
My Place is on a dock in the inlet of Murrells Inlet. It is one of the few places I have felt like Jesus was sitting right beside me. The stillness of the water stills my thoughts and my being. The story I will be handing down is that Jesus is beside you at all times. Even in the times when it feels like he is not beside you, he is in front of you, making a way for you. No matter where you are or what your life looks like, He is there.