My eyes flew open at six this morning. I ran for the scratch pad that I keep in the kitchen drawer that is used more often than not for these from out of nowhere Holy Ghost downloads. It stopped two and a half hours later, a timely word and life plan for one of my young mentorees and yet something so much more: a group study, a seminar, or that elusive book that relentlessly teases me with possibility, a direction, the re-birth of a life.
I have been struggling with the wise use of my time during this in-between time. Hope deferred does make the heart grow sick. Depression and a giving in are always lurking. Idle hours are the bane of my existence and draw me into temptations of worthlessness, the flesh desiring to be filled with anything that is given permission.
I worship; I pray; I study; I contemplate; I serve; I read until I think I’ll go blind; I shop too much; I facebook; I blog; I watch television; I feel sorry for myself; I isolate; I gripe; I waste; I…
And Abba points out that the time has been granted to be filled, but with what? He has been gracious with reassurances over weeks past which call out to a faith that yearns for the steadfastness of Father Abraham’s.
Part of yesterday was spent ruminating over the loss of creativity from disuse, life’s spark wasting away to a mere flicker. And then this unexpected morning. Blueprints given for a lifetime’s work that go far beyond the desires of the subconscious mind.
Tomorrow the writing begins.
