This month, I’m blogging through a book I coauthored called “Soul Bare“. I’m on chapter two, “Dark Clouds and Abundant Grace”, written by Trillia J. Newbell.
Trillia begins her story by walking you under an ominous, and sometimes abusive, sky with a sliver of sunlight up ahead. It’s a feeling that follows you through the rest of the chapter. She reminds you of this constant hope that leans heavily on Biblical promises and when you’re reading, you get the feeling that she’s walking you through a part of her journey that doesn’t get a lot of air time. By that, I mean that I get the feeling she’s not one to dwell on the hurt because she knows it’s big enough to swallow her.
“Joy comes in the morning, but the morning doesn’t always come within eight hours of the sun setting” (page 22).
Trillia is so subtle as she walks you under her gray sky and, ever so quietly, drops these bombs of pain on you. She doesn’t come across as someone who wants your tears, but she grabbed mine anyway. It’s not that I haven’t seen or heard worse, it’s that for a split second she shows you her soul and it’s so delicately vulnerable. Then, she’s quickly back under the steel-walled shelter of the promises.
Her road has been painful. It’s the kind of pain that affects the way you walk for the rest of your life. The fact that she’s willing to show us this part of her reveals a level of strength that feeds on itself as it grows. Those best equipped to drink the sun are the ones who have learned to live under a moody sky. I bet she never forgets to lift her face when the sun breaks through.
If you haven’t ordered the book, you should. Click here for the link.
I’ll post my thoughts on chapter three, “Cold, Dark Ground” by Jennifer J. Camp, next.