There are flakes falling softly outside.
The first snow of the season. It will be a dusting at most.
Ever notice how quiet everything is in snow? The world muffles the cacophony and you’re immersed in silence and calm. There is a scientific reason for it of course. Because snow is porous (more space between the snowflakes when accumulating together), it muffles the sound. The science is lovely and the calm is comforting.
I am thankful for how my back sliding door is in a great position so when I pull back the curtains, I have a peaceful view of the trees, falling precipitation and yard.
Right now, I have music on, decaf coffee, a nervous dog beside me and comfy clothes. I took a half day but it doesn’t feel like it. The time passed quickly and I wanted to use the time wisely. To read, to write, to journal. This isn’t even going to be a worthy post, I can tell. I just wanted to do something. Advance this. For myself. Read More
Leave a Comment
Posted on March 12, 2017 by Leigh Gorham
Soon, I’ll fly to a state in which I’ve never been. Then I’ll be a passenger in a car to another state I’ve never been.
I’ll be one in only 40 women in a secluded spot, staying in what used to be a convet. A holy space that will be the same for us.
I’ll get to hug a woman I admire whom I, in blessing, finally met face-to-face over a year and a half ago.
I’ll get to finally embrace a kindred spirit for the first time, where we’ve been connected across the time zones for years now. Writing can bring those who share passions, so very close.
Refine, the retreat, comes in two weeks.
My insides stir in anticipation for the quiet, the connection, the wisdom seeking and worship pouring. I crave these times. Set aside for journaling, fellowship mixed with introvert hours – perfect for growth and recuperation.
Kris has hosted these days before and this will be my first time joining. I love the vision for keeping it small, intimate, low-key and filled with Spirit. My heart longs for that environment.
He awakens me in such spaces. Though His pursuit is unceasing – in the every day of life as well as the carved out weekends.
I am not truly myself when in dry seasons of writing.
I am the only one to blame for those spells. Yet He graciously gives me times to return. And I sit in thankfulness.
So soon I go. We gather. He moves.
Selah
Share this:
Like this: