It was just over a week ago that I looked at the massive amount of emails piled up in my in-box at work and decided that I had to do something about them. Over the next several days I spent time sorting; responding; filing and deleting--until finally--pristine, dazzling white space stared back at me from my computer screen.
Ever since that splendid moment of triumph, I have waged a daily battle to hang on to it.
Partly because it has been such a busy summer at work, I found that I had no energy to write. I was even beginning to wonder if my well of inspiration had dried up--was my season to write, over?
It felt to me; not only about writing, but about a few other things too; as though God had pressed the "pause" button.
Just like my father, who in gentlemanly fashion always walked on the side closest to the traffic when we were out together, and when were about to cross the street, put his arm across my chest like the barrier at a railroad crossing, holding me back until it was safe; it's felt like God has been holding me back, and by doing so, giving me the gift of space.
Today I realized what a gift that space has been. And not only the space, but the inner freedom to accept the gift.
There is peace in waiting for God to say, "Go."
Fall is a time for new notebooks, full of pages just waiting to be written on.
A time of new beginnings.