I’m sure you’re thinking ‘Oh dear, not another blog!’ The horrroooorrrr…..*cue dramatic horror movie soundtrack*. Oh, you’re not…? Why, how very kind of you :-). *Cue Celtic music.* *Clears throat and speaks with a loud, booming voice.*
Once upon a time, in a land not very far away from you I’m sure, life threw a young woman a curveball. This curveball landed her in the middle of nowhere. She was alone, lost and afraid, not knowing which way to go. Her days were filled with despair and unending sadness. Chaos filled her mind and her spirit was brimming with dejection. Then one day she felt a powerful presence that brought quietness and light. There was an immediate recognition of this presence who we shall call The Inner Witness. In her turmoil she had forgotten that He was there. He had always been there. She had never really been alone.
‘What’s in your hands?’ He asked softly.
‘Nothing,’ she replied morosely. ‘I have nothing.’
Her pain was all she could see as she hopelessly named all the negatives she tightly held on to – the failures, regrets and losses.
‘What’s in your hands?’
She looked again; this time much, much deeper and there it was – the diamond in the rough. So consumed by her pain was she that she had failed to see the gift she’d always had – the gift to write. It had always been there but had become hidden by vices of laziness and excuses. She picked up the gift and began to clean it up. Suddenly, she heard the familiar voices.
‘Nobody is interested in whatever it is you think have to say,’ one voice said.
‘You’re inconsistent. It won’t take too long and you’ll be done,’ another spat and accompanied the statement with an evil laugh.
‘You’ll run out of things to say. What do you even know?’
However, in the midst of the noise, there was another voice so gentle it could easily be missed.
‘You’ll be alright,’ the voice said. ‘You’ll be alright. You’ll be alright…’
That was the only voice she focused on and it became clear what she had to do. So she arose from her crumpled state, dusted herself and silenced the voices of the self-doubt and fear she had become accustomed to. She inhaled…exhaled…and here we are…
Welcome…to Oma’s Serendipity.