And then there is time in which to be, simply to be, that time in which God quietly tells us who we are and who he wants us to be. It is then that God can take our emptiness and fill it up with what he wants and drain away the business with which we inevitably get involved in the dailiness of human living.
Madeline L’Engle, Walking on Water
The day begins shortly after 4 am.
Monday. We meet again.
I’ve some things to do today: coffee with a friend and pick up a book at the library. Some other, less interesting, things need to be tended to as well.
And perhaps some camera play.
For now, I read some things and wonder what it is about us makes us so . . . (I’ve tapped out and deleted various words here. Just can’t find the right one so I’ll leave it at this.)
The world seems so loud lately. I wonder if it really is that way, or if it is that my tolerance for the endless din is decreasing. Perhaps both. Likely both.
I think we would be wise to take our eyes off of one another for a while and consider Love. Then readjust our vision, and put it back on one another, looking through a different lens. I think I would be wise to do this.
And then there is that cacophony again and I tap out a few words and feel my breath grow shallow and my body tighten—and I backspace and delete.
Personal mission, values, and intention, my filter for what I choose to contribute to the ongoing conversation. And I grow quiet in this moment. And there, in that, I wonder how long I can remain so.
And so, Monday. Fresh start. Here we go.