Monday night

I had an interesting weekend. I was able to get together with some friends, right before developing a sickness that caused extreme crankiness as well as the sensation that a large person is sitting on my head.
But I mused this weekend, as much as any woman with three young children with colds can muse. I thought about life, and calling, and writing, and time. I thought about my idols- those things that I feel like I can't be happy without. I thought about dryness, and drought, and long stretches of desert. And I thought about displacement, about moving, and about the rule of displacement- how if there is too much sand in the bucket, the water cannot fill it.

I didn't mean to fill my well with sand, but I believe I have. Somehow bad habits have crept in, and I haven't been reaching my source. Habits like starting to work the minute I wake up, rather than meditating on the Words of Life and breathing prayers into the morning air. Habits like aimlessly surfing the internet. Or filling my mind with books or movies, afraid of silence, afraid of listening.

It was good to re-evaluate.

I am really afraid of change, and all my bravado can't really cover that. I'm starting to admit it. My dreams tell me, like they always do, as they show me every fear played out, and I wake up sweating and shaking.  People in my dreams leave me, they get lost, they die.

But thankfully I don't live by my fear, and perfect love casts out all fear, and today has enough trouble of its own. Right?

So it's one foot in front of the other, oceans of grace, wide open spaces, hugs and kisses and phone calls, waking up to prayer, and playing with my kids.

And, of course, packing. And eating pickles. And smelling my husband's face. And vacuuming. Just life.

Thanks for your kind words, friends. Once again you witness me working it all out in my rambling way.