The house is quiet.
Two energetic boys found peace on their pillows and the husband has turned in for the night. And I sit alone with only the sound of the ticking clock. Every fifteen minutes the chime sings deeply to remind me time is passing. Thursday will come as it always does with hope to post one more blog. It is always—
Just. One. More.
And every Wednesday night the screen—this one here—stares blank at me. It mocks me with its clear slate. Daring me to write real life and laughing when I hit ‘delete’ far more than any other key.
Words never come easy.
Nor does the journey.
My soul is as quiet as the night. I hear nothing. My heart is still. God’s voice is silent.
It scares me.
There is something in the quiet I am supposed to hear. And yet, I resist. I turn music on with hopes to conjure up distraction. But if I were to be honest, I am really hoping to conjure up His presence.
It doesn’t work.
The song is over. And silence wraps around me once again. I am paralyzed. What will come in the quiet? Good—or bad?
I don’t wait to find out. I walk about. Pace back and forth. It’s too risky to sit still. It is too risky to listen in the silence.
Her words come back to me. The vagabond who knows the journey, the beautiful soul who lives the words she writes.
Go for the jugular…and sit through it.
I can’t. I decide to pace faster.
To sit through it, to press into the keys, to tap out words of my soul–it means I choose to feel it.
To. Feel. It. All.
I’m not ready to feel it all.
On the journey with you,
~Do you find ways to distract yourself, so as to NOT feel?
~How do you escape?
~Are you willing to risk feeling?
~What does risking look like for you?
Here or somewhere…be real. Share your journey.