Poemia

The house is silent apart from the ticking of the clock, that you an only ever hear when there’s no one else around.  I’m sitting by the window watching the sun creep closer, knowing that today is going to be another beautiful summer’s day, but that it will be different.  Exactly because of that almost-silence.

A day with no commitments and no one else around.

The first in quite a while.

The perfect day to write.

I can feel a certain tension at my core.  After all, this is new to me.  And I think beginning new things is always the hardest part of newness, whatever it is that you are wishing to begin.  It’s a commitment to doing more than dream.

I have enjoyed exploring and sharing other’s words this month.  A way of preparing, or perhaps procrastinating, but I’m sure that doesn’t matter when I have found pleasure in it.  Some have been authors from the past, long in the past or just my past; others are writing now, further down the path than me, and laying a trail of ideas and possibilities that I find irresistible each day. 

One gifted words back to me, telling me that my life is a poemia.

A poemia. 

A new word.

It means, “that which is made”, and its Greek root of poiema gives us our English words poem and poetry.  It’s used in the Bible to mean something made by God Himself.  Ephesians 2:10 has the word twice – we are God’s workmanship, made to reveal God the artist but also made with a purpose.  I felt that as I explored this new word and I feel it now, resonating deep at my core.  How beautiful.

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance as our way of life.”

My friend Laura sent me this photo, saying, “I thought of you.”

She is right.  And so is Sue.

This is poemia.

Thank you for seeing me.