If I told myself to sit down in front of a blank space and just write....what would I say?
If I knew it didn't matter if it was perfect or not.
What then?
Just knowing that I have to sit down and write.
Have to untangle the thoughts of my mind and make space for new ideas and just keep sorting..
Doing a massive spring cleaning in the home of my mind and constantly getting distracted by nostalgia or by things that have been there for so long, well, they comfort me?
But wanting it right. Wanting it to be habitable...welcome to the Presence it needs most.
and feeling like I JUST cleaned that spiderweb yesterday...but its back again...stickier, tendrils trailing across the space it wants to inhabit and wont give up. I touch the string again and it sets off a familiar chord of fear again. and I find myself drawn in in its stickiness and I want to give up...what use is there in chasing out the spiders that will be back tomorrow and the next day and the next day after that?
Every 'use' as long as the sun still shines and I breathe air.
His breath. Breathed out on me.
Mine. Sucking it in and again.
He didn't mean for me to live with sticky webs of fear crowded through my mind. clinging to each other and anchoring themselves for the long haul.
Spinning out all the 'what ifs' of everything that could ever go wrong and choking out any sight of His dear face.
so I will clean and scrub and have Him pull out every fear that clings to its home in all the corners of my mind.
Just for today, I will rest on His grace.
and since tomorrow, when it gets here, will be today then... I'll just rest again on His grace.
