My eldest son is out of school.
And that means, I have lost my Tuesdays. I have lost my quiet afternoon moments that I had really started to enjoy. Those ones that cultivated silence and boredom and lists of things I should accomplish and to do projects in the sewing room.
And writing.
And so my writing has slowed down. Slowed to a halt, even.
Lots of things have slowed down in my life in the past few years.
You know, my pastor husband used to be severely depressed. He was on medication and he was frantic in his search for wholeness. Things moved faster back then. The colors were darker and the mood was always heavy and terrible.
There was no slow and no lightness of being.
I stored up hopes and kept them under lock and key. I buried my trusts and my stories because there was no safe place for them to root. I was a water lily. I got really good at floating, blooming and dying, then blooming again.
Closing up in the afternoon when the sun beat down. Dying to a halt.
It was hotter then. I earned the lines on my face. Stifled tears are the ones that burn the deepest.
But it is different now. He is well and we are healed.
It was the miraculous work of the Divine God of all Creation. He saw fit to answer my pleading.
And there is no other source of my current state of cool, placid peaceful spring than His deep, great Love.
I am out of the hard and fast and
into
the slow,
drifting into the sunsets.
It is the only way to live.
