I’m out of words.
Perhaps that’s not entirely true—calvous (lacking all or most of the hair on the head) kept me chuckling yesterday, and pratfall (a fall in which one lands on the buttocks) will undoubtedly appear in today’s conversation.
I’m not necessarily out of thoughts, either, since plenty of those keep running and tumbling in my head. But the path between thought and expression is well trod after writing my Master’s essay and now teaching online Composition courses, and I’m not sure I have the stamina to traverse it today.
As I prayed and journaled the other night, I was reminded that much of my time with Jesus consists of me talking to Him; I struggle to quiet myself long enough to hear what He has to say. So I turned off the nature music and shut off the bedside light, sat with my eyes closed and waited for His words.
Instead of words, I was given an impression: It’s not always about the words, but about the stillness.It’s about simply being, attuning my entire self to His presence.
So for now, I’m going to stop trying to hold words down on the page. This isn’t a respite from words, but a stillness of words.
For the purpose of this blog, which is such a gift to me, I’m going to temporarily reduce my posts to one per week, sharing the insights of others that are resonating with me. It’s my prayer that during this glorious season of fiery colors and lush textures and rich fragrances that I—we—will find beauty not only in speaking and thinking, but also in being.
Postscript: “For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, ‘In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.’”—Isaiah 30:15 (emphasis added)