Raynna Myers: Writing & Photography

keep following where Mercy leads

Hope Abides and Rivers Flow

Sometimes the thoughts come so fast, so I walk on and on like maybe if I bring my body up to speed I can catch all the thoughts, and then I stop. Depending on where I am at on the property, I am often surrounded by the sound of the rushing river.  Sometimes I’m surrounded by memories. I can see nineteen-year-old-me needing help to walk around the block and how.. Read More

The Deepening Gaze of Faithfulness

In the early morning, of this fairyland I live in, the air is brimming with sound. The roosters remind me I live in rural America but the other bird songs are still so newborn to me that it persists to feel as my first morning here, like the stuff of dreams. In a reverie it feels like I’m enclosed by tropical forest and its reverberations. The bright blue wing of.. Read More

Deep Cuts, Part Two

(If you missed it, you can read part one here.) Speaking of light… The daytime hours so stark during the summer often make everything feel awash and lost in its blast of luminance, discernment becomes difficult. The mildness of evening and morning light, I think most of us are drawn to its gentleness. We’re drawn to what we can see by its kind flame. Yet here is all this learning again…gentle.. Read More

Love, Part 4

Our family had an opportunity to partake in an event recently that I felt deeply moved by, yet as it moved closer I recognized an old drive within me peaking its head out, one that was afraid of missing out (FOMO); me—on the look-out for the next-great thing. The anticipation that brings joy is not wrong, but sometimes I have let it blind me to the participation in the present.. Read More

For When Your World is on Fire

There are wounds that wind our souls so tight we quit breathing from our bellies. That’s how babies breathe. Until the pain comes, we breathe from our bellies. Then we swallow the pain down to our guts and kill ourselves—but we simply think we’re trying to survive. And, in reality, we are. What’s so horrible about that? Why should surviving make us sick? It’s this question I have to capture;.. 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 Art He Makes Out of it All — Even Parenthood

Hello friends! It’s been several weeks since I’ve posted here, but not for lack of writing. My journals are brimming but more than anything, my children—the most important books I’ll ever write—and I have embarked on the adventure of our new homeschool year.     These are some of the highlights. What you don’t see in these photos: all the sit-down, practice book work, me running into myself over whether.. Read More

For the Travelers or Anyone Who Needs to Know Their Quiet Life Matters

The past two months my family and I walked a slim line and close shave to some harrowing past circumstances and decisions. It was all the sudden the same and completely different, renewed. It was scary and exciting. I didn’t know how or where to begin to write to you all. “Traveling mercies” can be like the gift of twilight, no other time of day like it, stillness shattering through the.. Read More

The Liminal Space of Prayer

Friends, How to capture the essence of the largeness of the tiniest details that completely reinvent our days is sometimes—beyond words. I’m writing to you from a different state, address and perspective than I last wrote. This past month, in my mind I’ve written you a hundred thoughts. My hands, however, have been a wee preoccupied; working to unpack, and recreate the warmth of “home” for my family of eight. Today,.. 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