I'm in an odd place of having so much to say that I can't get myself to say any of it. Too many thoughts and events and ideas--too many activities and changes and plans. In the past week I delivered my firstborn to college and got word that my husband will at long last be switching jobs. So there will be big holes in my house this fall--Joseph eight hours away in Nebraska, Steve in Memphis five days of every week. I like change--the freshness of new possibility--and these changes are not unwelcome, but I don't like the distances change can bring and the fluctuations between anticipation and grief that they often stir in me. Neither of those emotions leaves me completely in the present. Anticipation hopes for future joy; grief mourns the end of past joy. Both take me out of today, which has joys of its own that I miss when my eyes are elsewhere.
There's a robin hopping unsuccessfully after bugs in the flowerbed under my window. It spreads its wings and hunkers close to the ground, then flies away. Now a swallowtail butterfly flitters from roses to cotoneaster. Gorgeous.
I might not have words for all of the hopes and ideas and events and fears that fill my past and future, but I can enjoy today and see God in it.
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