I wrote so many thoughts over the weekend and not one of them is ready for print. Not even on the internet. I did, however, have a breakthrough last night when I realized the post I had written was the very thing I needed for something else but was definitely not the right thing to …
Creating meaning from scattered moments, half hours, and hours takes strength and purpose and vision. It's too, too easy to just languish in the not enough time to do.
I figure I'm right in the middle of the August of life, which is still summer, if you know what I mean.
Somewhere over the past few years, I've lost a little of the fervor for living the current season of my life. Sometimes, it's wall to wall crazy and I don't have a moment of quiet til after midnight.
We're all in a season of something, we might as well live it.
the Grandma I wrote about in this post passed away today. she was an example to me of a love that endures at a time when I needed it most.
I wonder how long we will live along this dark highway. . . in the dailyness of nurturing, guiding, growing, of learning to be faithful in small things. Because sometimes, I wrestle with the limits of my little light.