Friends, we are sheltered in today.
School is closed today due to the frigid temperatures, and I am feeling…
thwarted once again.
God just loves to change my plans. I, on the other hand, am not quite so flexible.
I cannot work properly on my novel with these freckled noses peeping over my shoulder.
We have two birthdays next week, and the celebration for the first is tomorrow. I was rather counting on my free Friday to get better prepared.
No matter, sticky fingers can help ready the home for friends. We will be tidying up, shopping, and making a cake later on today.
These boys are more cooperative when a party looms and there are bowls with sweet remnants for licking.
In the meantime, I’m exercising.
My writing, that is.
The amazingly gifted L.L. Barkat has challenged her blog readers to write a letter—in longhand, that is.
I have secretly followed L.L. ever since I read an interview with her over here at my sweet Ann’s—Beautiful Heart—about her book, Stone Crossings. (Which I am going to ask for from hubs for my 40th, which seems to be approaching like a freight train).
These two ladies move deeply.
I was watching a songwriter’s special on Austin City Limits a while back. Guest included Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt—two of our all time faves. During the interview portion of the show, Lyle made a comment that if he wants to write good songs…if he is looking for inspiration, he listens to other good songwriters.
When I read LL and Ann, I am inspired!
Ms. Barkat is a wonderful writing teacher.
The other night I experienced God in the yard and here is a letter I wrote about it that evening…
I saw you last night.
Wasting face looming down on me as I took Lucy Mae out for her nightly duty.
I could not help staring. Forgive me if I was rude…
Your beauty overwhelms.
It fell from the sky and spilled over my every day, my ordinary–making it something new.
If words are precious rubies, as Solomon says, then of what worth is this illuminating light you cast—these diamonds strewn on frost-kissed grass?
I am not this aging woman as I stand in this world of glassy light—but a babe seeing the night for the first time.
I gasp in awareness of your Maker in your presence. Your ever-constant, ever-changing face changes me still. For I cannot remain unmoved when I look into such immense displays of His glory.
Dear Moon, I saw you last night.
And your beauty carried me away.