How is December already here?
She’s like the family member that shows up at your front porch, just comes knocking unannounced, slips on through the door uninvited. Loud and boisterous too. Not a quiet cousin, or granny, or whoever it is you know I’m talking about.
Is there is a pause button? A rewind button? Can we at least mute this thing?
December,
don’t you dare
come around here
making demands,
stretching out your
asking hands.
I hope you rage against the race, this season, dear friends. Make space for Slow, that other relative of yours. She’s not far off and distant. You remember and recognize her more than you think you do. ⚘
In the spirit of December, and the year dying down, I have a few questions to ask you. I hope to hear from as many of you as possible, because your answers will aid me as I think about the year to come and how I might show up in this space.
So tell me all the things. Or, as my high school English teacher used to say with every assignment, share with me your questions and concerns . . . your deepest dreams, desires, hopes, and wishes.
What keeps you showing up here?
As I write, and as I share from my life and art, what compels you to stay? What do you enjoy about what you read here? Why do you take the time to open my email letters, though you’ve so many others begging for your attention? What do my words do for you? How are they forming you? How are they meeting you? And, also tell me:
What do you want more of?
You can be wildly brave and as specific as you want here. Do you want more original poems? More tips on creativity? More personal stories about my life, my past, my present? Do you want videos or vlogs . . . or audio messages and readings from me? More personal photography? More about my books or about writing? More about my explorations and musings of nature? More about my faith and where I find myself in the place of things these days?
Lastly . . .
I’ve done many different things over the different years. But where I’ve landed in this season is sending these letters early on Saturday mornings. The hope for that is that you’d have a little something to greet you and keep you through your weekend. But you tell me — what day of the week (and time) do you enjoying reading and replying to my email letters and how frequently do you like/want them? Once a week? Once a month? Pray tell. (Haha, mentioned my high school English teacher . . . and now I’m speaking with a Shakespearean tongue.)
I’d be so grateful if you leave a comment, or reply to this email, and tell me all the things . . . any thing that comes to mind in response to these questions.
P.S.
Words cannot, simply cannot, express how thankful I am for the fellowship I/we have found here. Some of you have been following my work and reading my words since 2012. That’s over a decade of dedication.
Thank you for joining me on this journey—for walking with me and allowing me to walk with you. Thank you for buying my books and bringing your own art and hearts to share here, too. Thank you for receiving my words and letting your soul be revived by them.
It’s an honor I do not take lightly.
Dear Rachel,
I hope that I don’t sound greedy when I say, “All of the above, please?”
For me, the variety of ways you share all have a foundation of truth, faith, vulnerability, creativity & compassion and these characteristics of your communication with this community are the keys that instantly open my heart to you.
Whatever the Lord moves you to do, that will be the best for you as well as your readers.
The only specific request I would have is more opportunities to meet in small groups in person.💞 Thank you for asking ❤️
I appreciate your poetic dance between topics like art, faith, creativity, grief, and what it means to be human. In a literary world that for me often feels stale, repackaged, tired, your prose is not. It’s new. Thank you 🙏🏼 I’m going to keep showing up. ☀️