Raynna Myers: Writing & Photography

keep following where Mercy leads

The Color of Rain: My Birthday Song

It’s the eve before my 37th birthday as I write this and my husband wants to know if there is anything I want to get out and do before the new day dawns and I’m older. Any spontaneous hurrah before it’s too late? He’s teasing but he’ll do it if I ask—he’s a good guy. And, yeah, well, there is something…but I just did it. Or better said, I just experienced it… Read More

Exploring His Presence to Live More Present in 2016, Part 3 (OR: When burning letters set my heart on fire again)

I was wrestling with a seemingly impossible barrier in my heart as I tried to sleep one night when somewhere between sleep and wake I saw the words I AM. My mind’s eye followed the image and watched the letters burn off in flame, yet remain. Within moments and breaths, and without fully knowing how or when, the barrier had fallen. Within the name, I AM, I finally understood the answer to.. 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

Living With the Ache for Home

Who knew I would speak with not one, but two of my children, between the ages of 3-14, this week about their future spouses, their future lives. I found in my boys a longing to know their place in this world. How surprised I was to come across their tiny but true nonetheless, ache. I perceived in them, ache. They are aching for their wholeness, and so am I. I didn’t.. 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…

A Choice: A Prayer

It was the middle of the night. One of the little one’s had a potty accident. Walking and working with my eyes barely slit open, I had this hope that if I didn’t open them any further, somehow, that would make them easier to close again just as soon as I could get my head back to my pillow. I didn’t want any big thoughts here, just: get it done, go back to sleep. Sometimes it works, but not this night…

An Artist’s Leap, Or Fail?

Five years ago, we lost: job, home, baby and for almost a year and a half—each other. My husband needed work and no one in his industry was hiring close to home. He took a job out-of-state, we put a sign in the front yard and started off on our new adventure, with five kids in tow. But renting in one state and owning a house that would not sell in another didn’t work long term, it hit its limits.

So, Jay stayed where the work was, to provide for us financially, and the kids and I went back to our old house, one state and a million miles away. I made a deal with Jay…

From Choking to Song

The laboring woman knows how the pain comes in waves. She knows the transcendent way they wash over—wash through—her. She knows they bear tidings of gift and soon the gift itself. Yet the way they come! Such tumult at times that stirs the blood to one of two things: Wild trust or wild fear. Two, so same and so different all at once, it could make us wonder how both.. Read More