I got confirmation of the feeling I’ve been having lately that God really wants me to be working on my writing in the form of an email from a friend about a writing contest he thinks I should enter. It might not seem like much, but to me, it’s a sign. It’s God saying, if you’re not going to listen to me when I speak to your heart, I will speak to those of your friends. Continue reading
My stories stopped.
The ideas didn’t stop coming – they trickle in every now and again. Not with the same frequency as they did before, but once in a while I’ll get a flash of insight.
It was the stories. They left – and I felt abandoned. Utterly heartbroken. They had been a part of who I was for so long, an effortless piece of my heart and mind and soul that poured out of me whenever I asked them to. Even sometimes when I hadn’t.
I wanted to make an observation of my relationship with coffee.
I had to drive my father to the garage where his truck was being inspected Tuesday last week, because, despite what he would like us all to think, even he is not capable of driving two cars at the same time. So he needed a lift. From me. I had to get up a whole hour early in order to be able to drive him where he needed to be and be back where I needed to be in order to be on time for work.
That’s a lot of being. Continue reading