Until It's Time To Wear White

Hello. 

I've been wearing lots of yellow since I stopped blogging. There are dried wildflower bouquets all over my car. I've shaved maybe three times in the last couple years. I've worn shoes only a handful of times. I applied to a school for the first time ever in my young life this week. . . but I've been teaching embroidery classes at a couple different Montessori schools all summer. 

I'm cheerier, and older, and quieter. I'm not wiser, yet. I've started writing again, last month, working every day on my novel, just a few sentences. I'm writing about a happy character named Eden, and so for at least five minutes every day, I too am happy. 

Been learning French for four months. I might be smart, but I can't master English. Friends and family constantly remind me of this. But soon I shall be saying to everyone, "Pardon, your French ain't spelled quite right." 

Where have I been? 

I've been hiding behind yellow clothes and wildflowers telling myself I no longer needed to nor want to write. I was tired of words, of hearing sorry and of saying, "How can I help?" 

I was tired, you know? 

I just want to leave behind all the yellow clothes and lay under the orange sun until my skin turns pink and I am gone and then I freak out, I haven't written my novels. 

I've made many friendships. . . the sort that ask to come over to my house and relax in my living room whether I'm home or not. The sort that says, "We like to hear your stories. When will you start a podcast?" I'm too tired to cook dinner unless my friends come over. These days I eat supper a lot. 

My blogs no longer contain my best words. And that's ok. 

I'm experiencing the disjointed era of my life. Therefore, I post on twitter many times every day. I found trolls. They believe dirty two Pences are real gems. They said nothing of me not having a social security number or of my religious quips and silly woman moments. No, they turned up their noses at my muddy feet and said I should kill myself. I wanted to tell them, "You may wash my feet if the Holy Spirit so moves you." But trolls go to hell faster if you pretend you can't hear them. 

What have I done with my life this last year? Many friends are married. Many strangers, too. You see, I work on wedding dresses and sometimes tell people to shut up and just kiss each other. And it works. Quite a few people have said, "Keturah, if it weren't for you, we might not be married." 

Shhh. Don't tell the trolls.

I've traveled out East with my $500 car three times this year. I'm planning on doing it a fourth time next month. This spring I gathered together some friends and went to the Porcupine Festival in New Hampshire where I organized and hosted a libertarian event called The Yellowstone Outpost. 

Hey. Know what I'm really happy about? I've been reading lots of books. My heart may yearn for the words of the living, but my soul is filled with words of gods. Someday my words, too, will fill the soul of someone whose heart is saying, "Yes! And now..." 

And now. I've decided to keep writing, to begin writing again. I said I would if I got a new laptop. I've had one now for many months. 

Sometimes people say I need professional counseling, or that I'd make a good counselor. I know my demons. I also know my gifts. I only need to share the latter. I've told others they needed a therapist, or counseling. Really, they just needed for me to tell them to shut up for three days then kiss. Go for a walk and pick flowers. Want a friend? Be a friend. 

I'm not going to share my demons. I'm going to treat them like trolls. And I'm going to be a friend and share my words, or my tears, and sometimes my laughter. And someday, my heart will be ok. For now, at least my soul is alright, and I'm wearing yellow. 

I said to him, “Sir, you know.”

 And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. 

Revelation 7:14