Today started on a dock. With crisp air and hot tea. A journal and a fiery tree. The water was so still that I could see the fish come to the surface of the water, and the blanket of clouds - puffy and grey - comforted my soul from afar.
I am hundreds of miles from my house, but feel like I am home.
Stumbling for words is how I have described my writing style as of late. Fumbling over what I have stuck in my head as should be written verses things that have been placed on my heart that need to be written.
This morning I have had fresh air to breathe, and room to mull thoughts and dwell in words. The slowness is freeing. And in that slowness, I can find them again. I can sort and dismiss the shoulds and focus on the needs.
For they are on my heart for reasons, even if I do not yet have the means to express them.
So I mull. And dwell. And listen. And refresh.
1 Corinthians 2:13
this week we are linking up with Hyacynth... join us?