Reblog: But Mozart was a prodigy! (& other myths that might make you throw in the towel)

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God loves you because He made you. God knows your heart. He knows your dreams and your wishes. Before we can have any desire, our first desire *has* to be for Him. Because ultimately, as Julian of Norwich said, we are created “from love, of love, for love.”

The word Logos (which is translated as ‘The Word’ in the gospel of John) is relates to the word locus. Locus is the centre of something, e.g. a wheel, around which other things move. Jesus is both the utterance of God and the centre around which we all spin. He speaks us into existence and He pulls us together.

I am so tired today. My brain is having to work hard reshuffling all these memories. I don’t want to think ‘what if’ any more. It hurts. I just want to belong to Him.

Some of us are given heavy loads, aren’t we? I think one’s own head being awry is one of the hardest burdens. But Jesus calls us blessed! 😀

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.”

Matthew 5:3-5 (The Message)

Μακάριοι οἱ πτωχοὶ τῷ πνεύματι, ὅτι αὐτῶν ἐστιν ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν

Laura Droege's blog

Has this cat gotten 10,000 hours of singing practice yet?  (Photo: Jonraguine1999, morgueFile) Has this kitten gotten 10,000 hours of singing practice yet? (Photo: Jonraguine1999, morgueFile)

If you’re like me and you’ve been working at developing a skill (such as writing) for any length of time, you’re bound to look up and see all the people who are highly accomplished at this skill, and feel envious.

I walk into bookstores and it’s almost more than I can bear. All those books! Written by someone else! Not a single title with your name on the cover.

(For a while, when I was racking up rejections for The Cruelest Month, I didn’t go to bookstores at all. It was too painful.)

. . . And if you’re like me, you read a masterpieceand feel tempted to bang your head on the table because you simply know that you’ll never, ever, in a hundred million, billion years, be able to write something that marvelous. Marvelous?

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