5th Feb. 2024
If, this morning, I choose to write few words. Succinct. Like this. Using a pencil with annoying wobbily lead. Before being frustrated enough to switch to ink, a few pens lying under a few month’s disorganization in a black canvas bag. If the bed is unmade, boots lie astray, flowers are by, and vase water grey.
And , if I decide to change my "if". Because that, like everything else, has gone before.
What.
Might.
Happen?
CHAPTER 1
I might collapse! Or spiral downwards into nothingness, where meaning doesn't mean anything anymore. No ladder back up.
No! Fighting against the riptides of fear, unfamiliar emotions of grief and tears, I continue to write.
My powerhouse, my heart.
United, singleminded, one, with the Author and Perfector of my life, who sits at the heart of my heart.
So, for now, i'm writing, and the sun is lighting up a corner space of kitchen dust.
CHAPTER 2 - 6th Feb 2024
Walking past an unmade bed to get my carpet bag, I see Poppy. She's now too old to care about jumping down the wooden stairs.
I open the kitchen door and stamp a cracked rubber boot onto yesterday's unspoilt frozen snow. Putting our 13 year old “pup” down, she takes off akwardly over the ice and returns just as fast for scattered pieces of banana and yoghurt heart biscuits.
The boots are muddled, kitchen floor is puddled, D.I.Y electrics half-finished.
Everywhere.
CHAPTER 3 - 7th Feb 2024
But then there's this thought(from 5am actually): Why don't I remember the unmade beds from before? A lifetime of shoes and boots and puddles of melting snow mixed with water leaking from the freezer? Or dust lit up by a promising February sun? And the roll call of "to do's", battling for my best?
All gone. Forgotten. Never to be.
So, here I go, trying to speak these words.
It’s okay if they’re stuck isn’t it? You hear my heart.
Thanks God! -
Selah ( I tell myself here)
And then, this space
Staring at white walls , waiting
Realizing again , waiting for what is already here.
-For your gift. The heart of your heart.
Your love.
Your peace.
Your perfection.
The moment that is,
Always,
Forever.
The beauty.
The majesty.
Life.
Hope.
Truth.
All that matters.
And in all of this I dwell.
Knowing tomorrow will only take from today
what is required.
Because today, with each breathe,
I'm choosing to hold onto the best.
I love only through you.
I care deeply and I love others , only through you .
And my faith, my hope, my love is from you.
I really don't care about the rest.
Bye muddled, troubled boots and thoughts.
Likened only to little bubbles.
Pop, pop, pop...
I know I’ll fight you again tomorrow ,
Yet the battle has been won.
Epilogue
May 2024
Closing the closet door on another winter. Carrying bags of strength back from hats and gloves. Clearer musing now guarding the side-rails of my mind, like two perfectedly aligned olive groves. Space within, to walk this intentional path. Barefoot, dipped in oil, perhaps I’m from Asher’s tribe.
I can sing.
Again.
A new song carries me,
Mid May born again.
Because I remembered to forget.
THE END
Deuteronomy 33:24
Revelation 14:3
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