Yesterday, I had a yard sale. There were racks of clothes and tables of shoes, and household items were scattered around the driveway. I grabbed a box of “Captured” CDs and set them out with a sign, “Free: take as many as you want.” Mostly, people looked at the box and walked on past them. But there were a few who didn’t.

A lady I’ve known since my girls were little browsed the yard sale items, and as she was about to leave, noticed the box. She picked up a CD and asked what they were. I explained that it was an album of me singing Christian songs I’d co-written. She grabbed a few and said she’d give some to her granddaughters. She started to walk away, then decided she wanted a few more for some of her employees. We filled a small, plastic bag for her, and she went to get in her car. A couple of minutes later, she was back, explaining that she wanted some as gifts for former classmates. She insisted I accept some money, and she took the box of remaining CDs.

My husband set out another box of CDs with the same sign.

Next, an older gentleman perused the yard sale, then as he was about to leave, looked into the box and asked about the CDs. Once again, I explained what they were and that I had ordered way too many copies and just wanted to get rid of them. He took a few, saying he wanted them for his children. He walked over, handed me some money, and as he turned to leave, he paused and choked up. He said, “Don’t give up on your dream.” I’d never mentioned my dream. I had to choke back my own tears as he walked away.

As we were winding down the yard sale, a young woman walked up, looked in the box, and told her friend, “I have that CD.” Then, she looked at me and asked, “Is this you?” I answered affirmatively, and she walked over to chat. She said she was from a town about an hour away and wasn’t sure where she’d gotten the CD. We concluded that she must’ve received it from a women’s ministry event because I’d given away a lot of CDs to churches a few years ago.

I’ve written quite a bit about the failure of “Captured.” What was an effort to rid myself of all the extras turned out to be an emotional, inspiring day.

I thought about how even though the end result might be a failure, the best part is in the journey. Over the last twenty-four hours, I’ve mulled over the making of “Captured,” and it was indeed the best part. I loved the writing process, the back-and-forth discussions to find just the right words, the hours spent in the studio. I loved the creative journey, though it was as much a struggle as it was a joy. And I realize, maybe the journey isn’t over.

Every day, I look at my “On This Day” app on Facebook. Five years ago today, a friend recorded and posted a snippet of me singing in church. I listened again this morning as I sang, “Grace upon grace flows down.” Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. A little later, I listened to Rob Bell’s podcast with Elizabeth Gilbert about creativity as I ran. Near the end of their conversation, they were discussing having grace for themselves. Rob said, “Grace upon grace flows down.”

I got the message: Grace upon grace flows down.

It’s not easy to run while you’re crying, and it messes with your pace and finish time—but it doesn’t matter because the journey is the best part.