Hey Sis!
My name is Rewa Pressley.
Welcome to The RED PRESSpective.
“A Look at the Good News“
OneStory, a Shared Presspective.
When people talk about God “putting the pieces together,” the imagery, most often, is of a jigsaw puzzle. We imagine a box containing a number of pieces of scenes from our lives, perfectly and strategically cut apart, designed to be put back together and to fit in just the right places.
While this is true for some, for others of us, our pieces look innumerable, random and disjointed, more like the remnants from shattered glass. Not cut…but broken.
And the pictures that we had of our lives? Well…they’re no longer recognizable.
For me, in 2011, desires that had grown dusty on the shelves of my heart, were finally being swept off and I was starting to think that I could actually have the life that I’d always dreamt of. But then, within months, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and during a time that had begun as a leap of professional and personal faith, now felt more like a season of free fall.
While my mother’s diagnosis was the single greatest heartbreak, there were struggles in and pressures on every area of my life: spiritual crisis, relational isolation, financial hardship and physical issues, all of which led to very deep emotional despair and mental fatigue. There was no area that was “right” or properly set. It was one thing after another after another, year after year after year. There were just so many broken pieces…
Hope slipped through my bloody fingers as I attempted to pick up the jagged shards of my life. Salty tears streamed down my discouraged heart.
I had tried to do the right things. What had I done wrong? Where had I failed? How had I let everything fall apart? Why were my prayers going unanswered? I had been committed to living a God-honoring life. But now, when I needed Him most, I felt so far from Him, so unseen and so unheard.
And I was broken.
And I was alone.
And I was very, very angry.
Until one day…
In the brokenness…
In the aloneness…
In the bitterness…
God began to, piece by piece, reveal purpose to me. Sitting in a Chicago hotel room, I saw a vision of an image that is now The RED PRESSpective logo. From it, I understood that I was to write…and that I was to do so from a place of pain, from the ink that would flow out of Cross experiences. Speaking to my weariness, He whispered, “Everything that you think isn’t right. You need to change your perspective.” He showed me that my point of view was limited and unfocused and, therefore, unclear. Through the lens of the scripture, He would use biblical principles to inform and transform my perspective. Until I saw Him correctly, God assured me that I would never see myself correctly or be able to appreciate the work that He was doing in my life. If He could teach me to believe Him, then I could faithfully and patiently trust to see Him at work in the pieces.
From there, He slowly and methodically began to outline the vision of a blog for women. That blog for women, however, would ultimately be the framework for my own restoration story.
As God worked on healing me, my heart wanted that same healing for other women too. Realizing that I didn’t want my sisters to be unhealthy, shattered and alone, that night, in a dream, God showed me on my knees with broken women. Together, we were picking up their pieces and giving them to Jesus…
…so that He could put them together.
So, when I talk about God “putting the pieces together,” the imagery that I see is a mosaic. I see life’s fragments, jagged with disappointment and pain, being worked together to create beautiful vessels for God’s use.
You…me…we’re the Master’s Piece.
But He doesn’t stop there. He wants to give us His peace while He crafts.
So, The RED PRESSpective is for the fearfully and wonderfully fragmented, for those women who are learning to trust the artistry (faith) and creative process (patience) of God.
You see…my mother had planned to write a book about faith, about perseverance beyond pain…but she passed away from cancer complications before the first chapter was completed. And in a design that could only be Divinely inspired, years later, my mother’s mission, in some inexplicable way, has become my own. Two travelers, one road, and a shared pen carved from splinters of the Cross.
Piece – Perspective (A Look at the Good News) – Peace
Who we are…
A division of RED PRESS Communications LLC, The RED PRESSpective is a blog that uses real-life stories to encourage faith in dynamic women, like you. Through the lens of biblical principles, The RED PRESSpective helps women readjust their perspectives so that, not only do they see God correctly, but they also see themselves correctly—and from that truth, live boldly and unapologetically authentic lives.
OurMission
To boldly inspire hope and courage through the proclamation of the truth of the Good News, to stir God’s people to a position in faith and trust in His will and purpose for their lives.
More about Me…
As the story goes, my mom drew inspiration for my name while watching a beauty pageant: Rewa Colette. Rewa, although unique, is simple and its two syllables are pronounced just like they look: Re – wa. There’s no accent on either syllable and there’s no breath or pause between them. It’s simply — Rewa. It’s meaning? Well…it varies from culture to culture. It means “swift” in Indian, “to rise or to elevate” in Maori, and “slender, elegant woman” in Polynesian. And it’s so nice that if you say it twice in New Zealand, they’ll think that you’re talking about a tall tree with red timber and red flowers.
I love to travel. And by love, I mean, LOOOOVE. Along with a collection of memories and pages of stories, I have cases of souvenir spoons representing every place that I have visited. My penchant for spoons is a nod to my paternal grandmother, who gifted me my first souvenir spoon. I was probably around five or so when I was shopping with her in downtown Atlanta. As I remember it, she was wrapping up a jewelry purchase when the sales representative gave her two silver souvenir spoons, each engraved with the store’s name. She kept one and gave the other to me. And now, all these years later, I have them both…and wherever my heart takes me, I always return home with a spoon.
I can often be found with a pen in one hand and a piece of chocolate in the other. Both addictions come pretty naturally, but according to my mom, my paternal grandfather was the person most responsible for my sweet tooth. As far back as I can remember, he always kept candy bars for me in his living room side table. And every day, while walking me home from elementary school, he’d stop by the neighborhood convenience store and buy me whatever I wanted. My mom would tell him to stop spoiling me with chocolate and, with his pipe hanging out of his mouth, he’d wordlessly reply with a sly grin and a subtle laugh. There are a lot of things that make me a Pressley, but the love of chocolate — it runs sweetly and deeply in my blood.