Hello friends, I hope you’ve had some time to seek gentleness lately. If you don’t know what I’m talking about click that link later, but for now travel with me a bit?

I felt the wind and let things fly away. Weights flew. Hair flew. Concerns about my abilities…flew. Certain ways of eating, seeing, thinking, praying, seeking, flew, flew, flew, flew, flew.

All at once, I feel light and like my feet got planted somewhere — somewhere I can grow. Wonder seems to work that way. It seems to not be one thing or the other, but both. Wonder invites us to imagine a world where day and night are not separated as well as appreciate while it is.

It’s been almost two years since the time I realized I was running a fever everyday. The fever persisted for six months, then another three months off and on. After nine months, altogether, it finally left completely. It left me torn.

While nine months is enough to carry and bear a child, a moment is enough to tear and be torn, and require another nine months (at least) to restore. I remember this and I forget like the children go up and down on the seesaw. Wholeness beckons to me in the rhythms of this life I live, but sometimes all I see are the ups and downs. I miss the invitation to joy.

In the midst of the healing my doctor spoke of a goal for me to look toward: eighteen months to two years, “expect strength to return”. It helps when someone says, “Look ahead! There’s more!”

Four words that are hard to forget, but sometimes in the day-to-day I do. A tear can be healed, and other such impossible possibles happen. The waiting, the in-between, the cultivating — it’s like a dance of shadows and light. Will we despise it?

Standing here now I feel the weight of the words and the worth of the goal the way a young woman in love feels gravity and heaven for the first time, at the same time. I am that woman. I want to run, because I believe I can fly, but the gaze of my beloved stills my feet on the ground, in wonder. I take off my shoes.

I find stairs. I find stairs in the flickering lights and shadows. Stairs to fall upon, stairs to kneel upon, stairs to dance with the light on. Weights fly. Exteriors shy. Deep joy consumes. And, it is enough.

Gentleness beckons us to hold the words spoken over us, to savor them, live in them. But sometimes our soul is satisfied cheap, by the next thing. We miss the miracle right in front of us — the eyes of a lover, hungry for the fixed gazed of the beloved.

Friends, there are things we have growing in our hearts that are going to take discipline, vision, and resting in the arms of our Beloved to experience. Do the words above stir you the way they are stirring inside of me? I have more of them.

Do you want to hold on to the things you have learned, grown in, found redemption, meaning, and purpose from whether through suffering or through joy? Do you want to hold on to the vision that instructs you, “Look ahead! There’s more!”?

I want to be a friend that writes you a letter and reminds you and encourages you to remember and to look ahead. Would you be interested in reading such a letter if I focused some of my efforts into a book on the subject of holding the miracle? 

When, whether through suffering or through joy, we have learned, grown, found redemption, meaning, or purpose…a new creation has birthed in us, out of us. This is beyond us. This is miracle.

I feel like I have been given a wonderful group of people who travel with me here. I feel like we have been traveling together for some time, resonating over our journeys, of labor, of birthing, of restoring, and healing. Thank you.

If it will be a blessing, I want to travel further with you, so I am sending this letter out to you in hopes to get your feedback.

Here’s what I am thinking…I’d like to take many of my old essays along with some new ones as well and combine them into a book/journal/prayer-catalyst that you can use in your own travels, holding the miracle as you go.

Would you respond to this letter I am writing to you today and tell me if you could imagine this being something you’d enjoy or imagine would nourish you? To tell you the truth, I’ve been sitting on this note to you for too long. This is hard for me to send, for a few reasons. But it is also a relief!

The words, “Where the spirit of the Lord is there is freedom” sing to me this morning. No matter where or what we’ve ventured through, there is a freedom to cherish, to hold, and to give away.

This is wonder. This is gentleness.

This is beauty. This is wholeness, not perfection.

This is enough.

Thank you for reading this letter from my heart to yours. Tell me if you want to hear more? An email or comments below, would bless me tremendously. And even if this particular idea does not make your heart burn inside, write me and tell me what does?!

May the joy of Jesus be with you.


Hi, I’m Raynna Myers. I’m an author, photographer, homeschooling mom to six children, and a wife of 19 years. I’m creating to be the life-giver I was created to be, in the image of my Creator. This is where I share as I learn, because we need each other.

I’m glad you are here. Subscribe to stay connected? I’ll send you my poem, Bound by Light, to say welcome and thank you.