heart string 2

This morning I had decided against doing a 31 days writing challenge this October. After all, getting married next month is enough to do. But this afternoon, having walked in the fall weather, and feeling inspired to write, I’ve decided to attempt it.

Kate Motaung at Heading Home is hosting 31 Days of Five Minute Free-Writes. I’m notorious for exceeding the five minute limit, so I’ve decided to use her prompts as jumping-off places to explore my topic over at the Write31Days host page.


And my topic? Being small and glad.

What do I mean by that, exactly? I suppose it’s being grateful. It’s noticing blessings. And it’s telling my story as it truly is: a story that isn’t about me at all, but is about something much more glorious going forward, in which I have the privilege of participating.

Two years ago, I wrote a blog post about being small and glad, based on G. K. Chesterton’s observation that “Alice must grow small if she is to be Alice in Wonderland.”

And I finished with this observation: “We live in Wonderland, where hopes may be resurrected, camels may step through needles’ eyes, butterflies may find their crumpled wings made whole.

Here I am small, and very glad”

This series, I hope, will be about living in Wonderland and being small and glad there, whatever that means on the various days. Join me?

Calling, Day 1
But this phone call — was it the first intimation of a different calling entirely?

Family, Day 2
Not just called His children, but in fact His children.

Capture, Day 3
The thing about life in Wonderland is that it is less about what you can capture and more about the things by which you are captured.

Embrace, Day 4
So that now, when the word “embrace” makes me start singing, I’m back at her piano. . . .

Home, Day 5
It’s the thing I’ve been yearning to do ever since I realized growing up was inevitable — and even before then . . .

Possible, Day 6
I live in the King’s not-of-this-world kingdom. The kingdom into which entrance is as simple as fitting an ordinary camel through an ordinary needle’s eye.

Love, Day 7
What kind of a love lets guilty ones walk through glory-drenched October mornings?

(silk and) Purple, Day 8
She doesn’t laugh at times to come because she has strong arms and her husband sits among the elders of the land, but she can laugh at times to come because her God is a strong God who sits with the earth — and all its elders — as the footstool of His feet.

Trust, Day 9
Why would we enter into a forever-covenant, knowing that we’ll both fall short?

Ready, Day 10
 . . . whether I’m ready or not ready, the future is coming to get me.

Rest, Day 11
. . . a refusal to seek soul-rest in Christ is a declaration of independence from His grace.

Storm, Day 12
Why are you so afraid?

Patience, Day 13
When I consider the magnitude of patience exercised toward me . . . 

Fly, Day 14
But even so, to fly — or to walk or to drive or to sit in a house — is an act of faith. 

Laugh, Day 15
Sometimes it’s the pure joy of the unexpected: a hundred-year-old man and his ninety-year-old wife conceiving a son?

Green, Day 16
Every morning dawns by the lovingkindness of the Most High . . .

Offer; Worth, Days 17 & 18
The lives which we give Him were already blood-bought, made valuable only because He considered them worth dying for.

Honor, Day 19
. . . we’re part of a story larger than ourselves, of a glory that does not belong to us — the story of the King’s kingdom with the needle’s-eye door.

Temporary, Day 20
Small and sad because of temporary things, I cling to Him who does not change.

Joy, Day 23
I literally can’t even.

Silence, Day 24
I am smallest and most glad when I take the time to listen.

Crash, Day 25
It is the sound of . . .

Whisper “perhaps,” Days 26 & 27
May I whisper back that perhaps it just because you’re afraid?

Hope, Day 28
. . . because He-on-whom-her-hope-is-set has promised . . . 

Sea, Day 29
Even being in a boat on a calm sea makes me seasick — I have no longing for storms and swinging seas. . . . And here’s what I’m seeing: God made His people walk right through the middle of sea.

©2015 by Stacy Nott

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