Raynna Myers: Writing & Photography

Capture the Fine Art of Real Life

Words: For When Clarity Comes With Confusion

Sometimes clarity has a companion. Sometimes clarity comes in the midst of a cloud, piercing through one minuscule facet of its heaviness and there it is—illuminating myriad colors. But, then it’s just all cloudy again. We’re encompassed, again. So we weep. So we soar. Out of tears, thoughts. —Leon Wieseltier Sometimes we’re immersed in waters, the waters that cleanse us. Beneath—sounds, sights, clarity is muted—a story half understood. This baptism,.. Read More

Dear Dying Heart: A Slight Figure of Speech

“They say you’ve gotta lose a couple fights to win It’s hard to tell that from where I’m sitting They say that this is where the fun begins I guess it’s time that I was quitting A slight figure of speech I cut my chest wide open They come and watch us bleed Is it art like I was hoping now?” —Avett Brothers, Slight Figure of Speech Dear fellow sojourners.. Read More

The River of God: A Poem & Prayer (OR, How Needs and Limitations Invite)

And now for something completely different 🙂 — kinda. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my own poetry, and these days my poems take the shape of prayers, or at least help me find the way to deep heart prayers. I have hesitated so often in sharing these due to many voices who say heart prayer need be “nothing more” than simple cries, such as “help!”. I get that… Read More

Aching with the Yearning: Learning the Love of God through my Children’s Eyes

“There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.” —Vincent Van Gogh What could a life be, dedicated to intimately knowing one thing? What if that one thing is the love of God? (Dishes need washing again, laundry waiting to be put away, sobbing little heart needs me to hold him.) What if I love like the King of the Universe, Creator of heaven and earth? …on earth as it.. Read More

Why We Create: The Love of God in this Burning Wilderness

The littlest was howling. He hurt his knee. He came running. Tucking himself next to me, he took my long skirt and draped it over his wound, holding it tight. Eyes closed tight too, unaware how he was warming my heart, he cuddled into my lap. That kind of smile that comes from deep down broke out all over my tired face. It comforted me that I could comfort him, even with.. Read More

Searching For Beauty

I’ve been searching fierce for beauty for weeks now. Physically, halting for poetry and photo-taking of the dogwood trees. Drinking tea in the afternoon and listening to stories, watercoloring with my budding artists and stopping, to listen: this was my search party. My war-cry looked like words spilling out the poems that fill me up in the journals. I’ve been listening to the quiet and the breeze. I heard the.. Read More

I Choose Joy Because God

It’s what the children know without an explanation or need for one. It’s what they don’t know too and why they need me to know it. Joy is a choice. The often cited “research” results that children laugh 400 times a day compared to the 17.5 times of an adult has been revealed as an urban myth. However, as a mom to several young children I can vouch that there.. Read More

Burnt Toast: A Prayer, (and poetry too)

Wouldn’t it be just the way of it? The morning I have this wonderful break-through thought, a certain breath from heaven kind-of-thought that transforms my affections and makes me ache with the longing to honor my God even as I cook breakfast for my family, all filling me up warm and bright inside—I burn the toast.

I don’t mean burn in the toaster kind-of-burn the toast, I mean, “Everybody open the windows before the fire alarm goes off!”, kind-…

The Liminal Space of a Woman with Child

When you transition from knowing your own writing voice only within the confines of personal journal pages and letters to family and friends out into the public domain, you wonder what it will be like. I’m only a couple of years into this experiment and here’s what it is like for me: freedom.

I’d written an article or two over the years that reached beyond my personal sphere but nothing like this last year. It feels vulnerable too, but that feeling pales in comparison to the joy of finding my walking legs after the work of crawling. The sense of freedom only enlarges when…

Forming Words, Finding Forgiveness

Sometimes as a writer, you feel the words form on your tongue before you even understand the sentence end or point. You just start moving the pen, pressing the keys… Then—there it is. It comes. It’s what you needed like that touch you wait for from your lover and now you have it. You fill. Is this anything less than miracle? The words that come are not for us alone,.. Read More