Something beautiful happened recently, I wrote a new song.
It might not sound like a big deal to some people, but to me, it’s everything. Because it’s been a while. A while since I sat with a melody long enough to give it words. A while since lyrics flowed without force. A while since I felt the quiet nudge to express something sacred through sound.
But the moment came soft, unexpected, and holy. I didn’t plan it. I wasn’t sitting with the intention of writing anything. I was just humming. Feeling. Reflecting. And then suddenly, a line. Then another. Before I knew it, I was reaching for my phone, recording voice notes, scribbling phrases, and trying not to lose the rhythm unfolding in my spirit.
It’s not finished yet. There are still some rough edges. Some transitions that need smoothing. A line or two that feels like it’s still finding its place. But the skeleton is there. The heart of the song has been born. And it’s beautiful, not because it’s perfect, but because it exists.
It reminded me that I haven’t lost my gift. That silence doesn’t mean absence. That even when life gets busy or blurry, the voice within me still knows how to rise.
This song feels different. Maybe it’s because of the space it came from a quiet season, one where I’ve been learning, healing, stretching. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t write it with an audience in mind. I wrote it with my heart wide open. I wrote it as worship. As release. As a reminder to myself that God still speaks through me.
Writing songs again is like returning to a part of myself that’s been waiting patiently. It’s like unlocking a room I haven’t visited in a long time, only to find it still warm, still filled with light, still ready to be lived in.
I used to pressure myself to write songs that sounded a certain way. Songs that could be performed or recorded right away. But this one, this one feels like a conversation. Like a journal entry that found its melody. And that freedom makes me fall in love with songwriting all over again.
It’s funny how creativity works. Sometimes, it takes a break to find clarity. Sometimes, you have to live a little before you can write again. And sometimes, one song is all it takes to remind you of what’s possible.
This song is not just music. It’s movement. It’s proof that I’m still growing, still open, still inspired. And that alone fills me with joy.
So no, it’s not ready for the world just yet. But it’s ready enough for me. Ready enough to remind me that I’m still a vessel. That I’m still tuned in. That I still carry songs within me, even when I’m silent for a while.
I can’t wait to finish it. To shape it. To maybe share it one day. But for now, I’m just grateful. Grateful for the melody that broke the silence. For the lyrics that rose from a quiet heart. For the music that reminded me: I still have something to say.
And that’s a blessing all on its own.
