offering plate
a communal collecting | 005
Sometimes, I don’t have much to give. Sometimes, my own words exhaust themselves. My Offering Plate series is my way to still pour, borrowing from the well of things that have kept me going — whether that be a song, words from my archives, a reminiscence, pieces of conversations, words from others, and so on. The idea of the offering plate is to pass it around, to sow a seed. Think of it as a communal collecting, where members of this community are encouraged to leave their own offering. To sow and be sown into. To hold and be held. To heal and be healed.
From the archives;
I have no doubt that we are supposed to be tender — fragile, even. It is what is required of us. To be deeply human, we must break, sometimes down to the bone. And it is there, in the marrow, that life tends to unveil the purpose that lies beneath the ache, the chaos, the yearning. It is there, that our scar tissue becomes scripture, that our grief becomes gospel, that our anguish becomes activism.
We’ve taken it, the breaking that is, and enveloped it into being this unpalatable act. And though sorrow is surely abound, though our hearts heave in agony, the breaking is where we become more of ourselves. The breaking is where resurrection transpires, where we learn to begin again.
Our wounds are commemorations of all the love, hope, and desire we’ve carried. They are maps back to what matters most, back to what we cherish, back to what we long for.
So let them guide you. Let the breaking carry you into yourself — not away from yourself. Let the breaking keep you tender, keep you human, keep you connected. In the undone, there is so much to be revealed, and so much to be restored.
External offering:
And now, I pass the plate. If you have an offering — words of encouragement, or anything on your heart that you want to share — please leave it in the comments.
With love and light,
Mariah