How many stashed notebooks, tucked away pages, and Word documents are dangling half-finished in your home?
Beauty isn’t always found in the completion, is it? Oh yes, I know that my beauty and yours and the sinner’s next door, that all of our real beauty indeed will be revealed upon His wondrous return and completion in us. Praise God for that! But what about some of the things of today? Especially those made by stringing letters together into lines. Into paragraphs. Into chapters. Into stories. Into books. What about the beauty in those not wanting to be undone? Or the beauty in those left undone, on purpose?
Isn’t beauty also found along the way, and not just in the completion?
Right before the idea is even born.
When the conjured-up comes to fruition.
As white turns to gray.
When pen meets paper with something to say.
As tappy flesh fingers meet still plastic keys.
During the heart’s pouring out.
When warm word-soup simmers in the head.
During nights when itchy ideas wriggle in bed.
How many stashed notebooks, tucked away pages, and Word documents are dangling half-finished in your home? I take that back, how many are jumping for joy? Because they find beauty, in their half-finished form.
Even if your written piece has “The End” etched after the flow of gifted words, is it ever really finished?
What about its work once it leaves your desk?
Does it give someone else something to say?
Does it simmer in another’s head?
Does it meet another heart?
I think I want some of mine to always stay undone.