I have to be okay, again, with being alone. In the still quiet of darkness. I have to relearn the art of loving writing, not merely for the off chance of readership or publication, but for myself, to get out of my head all the thoughts that plague me, if for no other reason than... Continue Reading →
When worship becomes more than just wordsspoken from the lips of a saint,when the honest truth of a broken and a contrite heartspills forth to take false worship’s place,that’s when God shows his glorious countenance. When worship becomes more than just a way to God,but a devoted lifestyle. When expectations are exceededand warning exists not,that’s... Continue Reading →
Dear Readers, I’ve been contemplating some things over the past few weeks about the blog and where I want to take things moving forward. Everything isn’t set in stone yet but there’s one thing I want to come out and say now. Dylan Whittler isn’t my real name. I wrote a blog post about that... Continue Reading →
Dear writers of trauma, You and I both know that writing about trauma can be cathartic in any form, be it fiction or nonfiction, novel or personal essay. We are encouraged, as writers and storytellers and trauma survivors, to “write our truth” so we can heal but there is an underlying occurrence that I don’t... Continue Reading →
Tossing and turningand flipping sheets over.Grunting in frustration,as the clock moves forward. Mind is spinningand won't slow down.Future's moving closer,can't turn back now. Time is of the essence,too precious to be wasted.Experiences to be had,and dreams to be tasted. Counting sheep, so bountyhoping on a prayer.Wanting sleep, so peaceful,but to find it, don't know where.