When The Words Find Me
You are loved!
You probably haven’t heard much from me lately.
Life has been moving fast — and midlife changes even faster.
I’m still here though, quietly working, writing, processing, and trying to find my creative space. Some days are harder than others.
On those days, I look up to the heavens and whisper a prayer.
This piece is the answer I received.
“Renee,” I hear, a quiet knock.
And no, I’m not hallucinating.
It comes from the very depth of my soul,
a gentle calling followed by one simple word: “Write.”
“I’ve been trying,” I whisper to my cat, sprawled lazily in a patch of sunlight.
The truth is, I’ve told myself I’m too tired to write, too busy.
Excuses, excuses, and beneath them, a deep sense of disgust.
Even when I pause, even when I fill my days with work and busyness,
the words still find me.
I tell myself it’s not good enough and push them away,
until that quiet knocking becomes impossible to ignore.
Grief has resurfaced, and still I say I’m exhausted.
But when I lean into the words, a sweet message arrives:
Daughter of morning light, let go. You are more than enough.
These are the words I needed.
They rise slowly, like bubbles from deep water,
searching for meaning.
“I’m trying,” I say out loud.
Some days are survival, coming up for air in an angry ocean.
Other days are calm waters.
This is life, especially in midlife,
the season when storms appear suddenly,
when we reevaluate everything.
We feel the ache of age,
the brittleness of fall leaves.
Yes, I am a daughter of morning light.
And you are too.
We are all sons and daughters of light,
created from sweetness, meant for love and loving.
Some days we forget this calling.
Under the weight of collective trauma,
we may feel as though we are crumbling
beneath failed hopes and tired dreams.
And yet, with each spark of creativity,
we rise again, still here, still creating.
Yes, I’m a writer.
The words find me.
Writing gives me hope.
It is solace, a fresh start with every breath.
For this, I am eternally grateful.
I will always answer the knock,
and my truest love calling,
“Renee, my darling daughter, you are loved.”
This response is the answer my heart and soul longs for.
This is the quiet embrace of love.
That energetic hug on the cloudiest of days.
What is my creative next step?
I’m unsure yet.
I do know one thing: I am turning the handle and opening that door.
Love it and feel it.