Conferences and Broken Strings

God- I think I get it.

The Writer's Conference was your idea- I'm seeing that now. I didn't just burn with excitement to go- I just felt like I should- so I did. While I was there, you challanged me and woke me up to the fact that I left the works given me unfinished; my tasks undone.

But then you continued your lesson. I walked in to the sanctuary today and tuned my guitar- content in my own skill and the routine. I played a few seconds- and then my b-string snapped. Only you could plan to break the only string that wouldn't totally de-rail me, but get my attention. I didn't have a B-string to replace it with, but I did have an E. I had just what I needed- a string.

I've been prodded out of my complacency- and made to realize that my own skill and prowess mean nothing in the light of you.

Thank you, God!


You told me to write at the conference- made my blood sing and my spirit cry it's readiness. You reminded me that all words are yours, Author of Language and Origin of all Tongues. Can I ask a blessing of works made by hands? I don't know if I should- but I ask it as humbly as I can, as carefully as I can. If this is your will, then please do with it what you want.

I almost wrote "help it prosper", but it seemed presumptuous, God. Then I considered "bless it". Didn't I seem so pious there? But it's fate is yours as it is all yours. Whatever happens to it, any and all works wrought by my hand are yours. My part is to work and to run, you choose what grows and what is stricken down.

If I don't succeed by the world's standards of publishment, then I will haved still done what I was commanded to do. If I do, then I have done what I was commanded to do.

It's yours.