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 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

*hmm, used that phrase on last thursday’s post

a year from now