I have this writer friend…most of my dearest friends are writers…whether or not they have made that public knowledge. I’ve forced a few out here.
This friend is a writer that does sometime let people read her heart, all out there in words and all. She’s not famous, for her writing yet, except with people who know her, who roll their eyes at how good she is, how talented she is, in this, too …and love her beautiful, brilliant, fun and talented self.
She and I were exchanging written words, my best kind, today. We addressed the issue of time, not its lack, but the necessity of identifying moment and season…at least that was what we talked around. There is a time for things. Things said in season stick. Things done after that…well, you know what a day late and a dollar short gains you.
This seems a popular time for so much to happen. All at once. Like this is that time. And everything, long put off, long-awaited, long feared, long hoped for, long suspected, long in coming…is here, elbowing for space and trying to struggle free from my arms trying to hold each and all fast and near.
I’m kinda glad for the at-onceness. There is no way I can hold them all. No way. I can’t get my mind around much less my arms, sufficiently so.
So, I will just set all my visitations and invitations of worry and responsibility down before God, let Him take them up, and do what I know to do and be who I know to be. Because I can’t hold them any better…