Good Things

Good Things

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Good Things
Good Things
July Downloads

July Downloads

Words cut out from water, a story within a page: a print & lock screen for stormy seas.

Jul 20, 2023
∙ Paid
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Good Things
Good Things
July Downloads
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It had to be this.

Words and phrases came and went, verses popped up, ideas of different images made a quick appearance before going on their way . . . but nothing stuck.

The question circled. Hovered. Waited. There were four dozen more pressing and immediate things going on, so it stayed on the back burner, but still—it stayed.

Now, you might laugh. It’s fine if you do; I probably would too, except I’ve learned over the years that rarely is the answer found in one extreme or the other—forcing it or picking at random without a care in the world.

But if I wait and watch, if it simmers, eventually eventually eventually the cliches show up. The lightbulb goes on. The fog lifts. The air clears. Lightening strikes. Okay, that last one is a little extra, but oddly enough it does often prove true . . . out of no where, there it is.

Be it an idea, a solution, a response, a way where there seemed to be no way, etc etc etc.

This small question, this tiny unknown? If we’re comparing it to the absurd amount of change and surprise, losses and unknowns that 2023 has held so far (for me and also, I know, for many of you), well, it’s minuscule. But minuscule still matters.

What words belong on the July print?

See, it’s small.

But small things still have significance.

So it simmered. And it simmered. And it simmered some more. Ideas sparked but I was waiting and watching for “there it is” lightening.

Does it super matter in the grand scheme of things? Of course not.

It’s just a printable and a lock screen. But I’ve been the recipient of just the right words at just the right time, and so maybe it’s more accurate to say “just” a printable and a lock screen.

One morning in late June, I sat in a parking lot staring at my phone in shock as updates continued to arrive. The news was heartbreaking, the loss gut-wrenching, the words few. I opened IG Stories in our private All The Things account, knowing I needed to post a quick reminder about our June Author Call that evening . . . but instead of using the Text tool and a pretty background, I decided to record it with my shaky voice and glassy eyes, because #allthethings. Alongside the reminder, I shared a small snippet of the news that arrived with the morning sun, asked if you would be willing to pray, swallowed past most of the lump in my throat and then came back with one more thing:

Many of you so kindly replied with your prayers and then, hours later, you smiled with me when Amanda quoted those very words from Spurgeon. “I have learned . . .”

There it is.

Waiting. Watching. Lightning.

I could see the design in my mind, the words cut out from the water, a story within a page. And so it went from a June handwritten note written over and over all week long, to a quote spoken in the morning and again at night, to a summer gift arriving in your mailbox, to a print and lock screen reminder for all the days and all the waves.

(Actually, technically, two prints and lock screens. Yeah yeah, the paid subscription includes one of each for July. But at this point you know I like to add in a few bonuses throughout the year because why in the world not—and I wanted to make sure you had one that reflects a stormy sea + one for the calm that comes when He says “peace, be still.”)

May we learn to kiss the wave.

Even when we’re thrown.

The rock will hold.

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