i have been scribbling about
trust + not turning away
from what we know,
continuously,
for days

I want to add | expand what I’ve written: in the novel, on a post, or a Sanctuary phrase. Yet the more I write and think of it, the further from “it” I find myself. I have prayed about it, seeking wisdom, patience, vision. But even the words for prayer elude me.

feeling a tad guilty, yet propelled,

I got up immediately when my body hit the chair to search for a prayer book in my bookshelves. Did not find what I was looking for. Did I give it|them away? Are they somewhere else? I’ve been decluttering and organizing, but all books in one place in my house is nearly impossible for me. Or is it?

digressed

I picked two books, placed them on my desk, and searched the shelves again. Nothing. Did not go anywhere in the house — too early to be on the hunt. So I read from one of the books I picked, which has daily readings for a year, and which I had never read (think it was a gift — how timely!). My heart opened up. Then I opened the other,

written by one of my favorite authors (i have many)

but which I have not read, and I’ve owned the book for over ten years! I recall opening and perusing it, but nothing else. I stopped reading it to jot this down because I am amazed at how apropos it is for me today.


i don’t want to stop reading it
or quoting from it in my journal for future reference
And since I think best with pencil in hand, naturally, I started to write.