I feel it, long before I see it. Suddenly, out of the dark hole, it arrives. Like a silver bullet being shot out of a gun, it hurls itself forward toward the loading platform.
Which Instrument and Which Author Will Tell Your Story?
Tonight, effortlessly, I draw my pen across the paper. The smooth, colorful, purple ink magically adhering to the paper. Something about this is inexplicably enticing, mesmerizing, and familiar to me. The pen seems to dance across the page like a ballerina on pointe. A stream of beautiful, powerful words appear as the pen moves. These words are permanent and indelible.
Shades of Gray, Dumbo the Elephant, and The Power of the Pen
Contagious laughter bounces off the inside of sun-warmed car windows. Shades of gray slowly pull themselves up around this part of the planet as dusk gives way to twilight. We inch our way towards the evening Beth Moore event with 5,000 other women. Four, freshly woven together friends, sharing space on this adventure.
Dormant Volcanos; Warm Maple Syrup, and the gift of the "M" Word
Laughter erupts from the depths of my soul. Like a dormant volcano coming to life. It is unexpected and deep. There is a long, awkward pause on the other end of the phone. The nurse repeats her message but tries different words. Now I am gasping for air. This is a joyous, uncontainable laughter from very deep inside my soul. The velocity and uncontainableness surprises even me. It is spilling out all over the airwaves, like lava, it bubbles and spreads.
My Autobahn, My Studio, and the Gift of Personal Postcards
This day has been lived on the Autobahn. There has been no time to consume any type of nourishment and thus, it sounds like an angry lion is residing inside of my stomach. Ugh! What to do? I am attending a dinner birthday party at seven, which means we easily won't eat till eight. Making a decision that could be regrettable later, I am heating up some tomato bisque. Adding a tantalizing white cheddar grilled cheese sandwich will be scrumptious. Tonight, I simply need comfort.
To Be Known
Rain is pelting the windows, like a jackhammer breaking up resistant concrete, it attempts to break into the building and bring wetness. Thank goodness, I find myself safely inside of this solid structure. I am like a butterfly inside of its cocoon. I am warm, dry, and safe. It is the first day back after a two week break. The young ones have not yet arrived and the library is silent.
