On Scarcity and Offering our Gifts to the World

In which I talk about writing and mangle metaphors

rain on my blueberry bushes

Contemplate

I've no chisel but this pen

chipping at paper like stone,

carving words, not to build but bend

graphite like steel, curve the bones

(Dear God, not break) but lay in place 

and then form a space to hold a new

edifice, sculpt and rest and tap some more

while You hand me bricks to begin, restore.¹

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Pull up a chair. I have a confession to make.

I started writing on Substack in late July 2023. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing but after twelve years of writing online in Wordpress-land I knew I wanted to make a change in how and what I wrote. By the way, hello new readers and folks who were migrated—I’m so glad you’re here!

Something was stirring in me. I’d stopped writing regular posts on my blog and wanted to keep my website merely as a landing place. I also was looking for a recalibration in the ways I chose to communicate, a place to share more often. And I longed for a deeper connection.

I missed the old days of blogging, circa 2012, when the virtual communal connection of the internet engendered a feeling of friendship. Over time, many of the readers and bloggers whom I only knew virtually became actual flesh and blood friends as we met and attended conferences, workshops and retreats around the world of Christian creatives. I am so grateful for that. Truly.

I’m probably not going to say this right. I hate that what’s in my head does not always translate well to the page. At any rate, now that I’ve switched gears to Substack and made it official—Hey Notes, I see you!—I’ve discovered an occasional worrisome thought (okay, more than occasional) as I peruse this wide open place.

It is this—a lie that lends itself to manifesting as a sense of scarcity—that there are only so many good words to be written and, “man, why did so-and-so take those words right out of my mouth and use them all up? There aren’t enough leftover for me to use.” I feel a little fussy about that, like a kid who wants to take their baseball and run home….

Here’s the thing, though (Totally mixed/bad sports metaphor ahead)

When you run home with your soccer ball, baseball, frisbee or whatever, you’re all alone. There is no one to laugh and play with and high five in your awesomely-played event. You miss the camaraderie of going through the challenge of a tough game. You don’t see the joy and jubilation and awe-inspiring work of teammates who are all making goals along with you and totally winning.

Or maybe you’re in the grandstands and cheering other folks on.

“Isn’t God good? Faithful? Amazing? Dependable?”

Or , “Wow, look at the way so and so wrapped words around exactly what I was thinking.”

Or, “That is the most exquisite/enjoyable/vivid scene I’ve ever seen anyone paint with language.”

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I want to remember—we are all on the same team. This is not a competition. (Am I just talking to myself, maybe???)

The thing is I’m a Christian. There is no separation between what I create and who I am. I want my work to reflect God in all of the above ways and I want my mindset to reflect that as well. To be welcoming and open hearted, to know that what He’s given me to say is just what it needs to be, a just right word for the audience I have (which is you!) And I can rejoice when I read work from other remarkably gifted poets/thinking people as well, saying, “What a reflection of God’s amazing creativity, an expression of who He is.”

Because that’s what happens when you realize you’re all on the same team.

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There’s a line in my poem above, “form a space to hold a new/edifice, sculpt and rest and tap some more…”

The meaning of the word ‘contemplate’ is from the Latin, con meaning ‘intensive’ and templum meaning space. To contemplate is to literally make a space for something, to welcome God in, be open to whatever comes as you are faithful to wait right where you are.

As I wait, you’ll find me writing and reading, too, grateful for the bounty of words here. And the friendships! I’ve actually met someone in person because of this virtual community—I see you

Kristin Haakenson

—and my life is fuller because of it.

There is so much goodness here on Substack. Kindhearted people, gifted poets, people with perspectives I need. There’s plenty of love and goodness to go around—not only in the reading but the writing. God’s well of love and creativity knows no bounds. And there are a million and one ways we reflect that to the world and to each other.

I praise God for His rich abundance as He pours words through me to offer in this virtual corner of the world. And I praise Him for you, too, writers and readers.

There is more than enough to go around. Let’s enjoy it, shall we?

1. From my book Hearts on Pilgrimage: Poems and Prayers