|Personal photo; Lowell park bench
I press the ‘start’ button,
seconds tick silently by; milliseconds in count behind.
And tired is all that I am in this space.
It is not a bad tired.
And we all know there is a distinction between good and bad and even nominal wearies.
It’s a tired mixed with goodness, thankfulness, blessing and lessons being learned.
It’s the stretching of muscles and tendons and sinews of spirit. It is the toughening sensitivities and the thickening of skin. It is the rejoice of any hour of sleep successful. The knowledge that nothing is promised to allow us to conquer a day save that of the grace of Elohim and the continued reminder of where Love leaves us.
The minutes continue to count and I’m in no rush. Knowing that spectacular doesn’t have to happen each time fingers press letters. In fact, I know it rarely does. Ask any writer either of trade or of heart. It doesn’t mean notoriety comes, it just is something that must be done, as breathing: the practice of writing. Getting thoughts out, lethargic-escaping moments of clarity and introspection.
And 5:03.9 is here and I’ll be true to the moment.
“Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls“
* Join us, as each week faithful practitioners and newcomers alike share a space of penning thoughts in stream. No pretense is required. In fact, we lovingly ask you to leave it behind. Come unfurl in the comforts of free space, no judgement, and the most rewarding gift you’ll ever hope to find: true and abundant encouragement.
These women enormously excel at it. Come and see
for yourself at the “home” of the lovely lady who started it all.
Everyone is not only welcome here, but beckoned.