sabbatical . . . again?
miss it, the city, the something
Three days short of the anniversary of 2020’s sabbatical, I am again thinking: maybe I need to put it away. Let it go. Honestly, I am not sure what it means. We know that by now, right? I believe it’s writing, or blogging, or both. But perhaps it is something other than that? Not sure. But . . .
but what??? (sigh)
Write with a purpose instead of whimsically and by the seat of my pants.* That would be a departure — oh, a kind of travel??? Go on a writing journey. Prepare for it enough, yet let the winds of my mind carry me along. Home?
Wrote that on two edges of an almost covered-with-scribblings piece of paper and knew it would be today’s post. Wanted to change the “my” to “you,” but I prefer it the way it is even though it would sound better the other way. The other scribblings began with a question, and its
forty|fifty-something answers
just over a week ago. I wrote a question I had read to be a prompt to myself but decided to answer it and somehow filled up the whole page plus some of the back (which had publishing formats for Like A Blue Thread). I also answered the opposite question, which I made up. I know: it means nothing unless I write the questions, but not ready for that yet. May be a Sanctuary post.
so the answer is: no, a big fat no, thank you very stinking much.
a rich store of salvation + wisdom + knowledge
the fear of the lord
is the key to this treasure
Isaiah 33:6
