I have FMF-ed in ages. I haven't blogged for a month exactly, today. This blog is one I don't use anymore, but it is where I always did these precious five minutes.
When my dear friend told me that the word today was wait, I gave a forced laugh. (via facebook) and I avoided thinking about it for the rest of the day. But He brings us back to things, and as the day folds slowly into a yesterday, I come to an old place I have left behind, this lovely meeting of minutes and hearts.
I didn't want to write about waiting. My friend and I wonder if all we do is talk about and write about waiting. It is pretty obvious that this is a time of waiting for me--waiting for many dreams, an in-between time. Waiting for a full-time job, waiting to settle in, waiting for the duller days of subbing to end.
Today I wrote poems. Not my own, no, today I wrote down poems by Luci Shaw into my poetry journal where I keep the poems that are my inspiration. I learned something as I meticulously, slowly, deliberately hand-penned the words of another. I learned patience. Hand-writing a poem you like is an exercise in slowness, in steady digestion of words and thought-particles. And in that careful absorption, I found a sense of peace. As though He has given this time for me to slowly go over all that I know of His promises, adding what He wishes to teach me, so that I know it by heart. So I believe it when this time is over. I am an impatient one, who was brought to her spiritual knees by the thought that He cares for me as I drove away from that slow, difficult day. Even when I refuse to find the joy where I wait, He gives, and gives, and never stops--He gives snow-iced landscapes and western gold that purples into sharp, star-flecked night.
