Restlessness and Need for Peace

God knows what we need, just when we need it.

I stumbled upon this prayer this morning.  A morning when, like so many other days in my past, I wanted to talk with Him, pour out my soul.  But the words wouldn't come.

And yet He knows.  HE always knows the words.  Long before I even speak them.
And He knows what I need, even before I do.  And yet He patiently waits ... waits for as long as it takes ... for me to acknowledge this to Him.

Oh Lord, sometimes my insides feel like a battle zone, where missiles are falling too close to home. Other times I'm caught in an endless storm, with thoughts flying out of control. Confusion reigns, and defeat creeps in to steal my joy.  I need your peace—the deep-down-in-your-heart kind that stays with me day and night and speaks confidently into the wind. Calm my anxious spirit, Lord; all the attacking "if-onlys" and "what-ifs" fill me with needless worry.

I know that trust is a big part of experiencing peace and that fear has no place in my life. Most of the things I worry about or dread don't even happen. So I'm declaring my trust in you. I'm releasing the reins of my life again and asking you to take control. 

I may need to pray this same prayer daily, but I'm tired of the frenzy of life that leaves my schedule and my thoughts without any margin. I need more of you, Lord, and less of me.

Suspended

2019.  I knew it would be non-stop.  And it has been.

The busyness began in April -- a trip to Watertown, New York.  

My son and daughter-in-law were living there -- WERE -- temporarily.  She's a travel nurse at the present time, while he works towards finishing his master's in archaeology at Binghamton University.  He finally found his passion.   Let the man dig!  

He just returned from his second field dig in South Africa.  Somehow Google knows I now have an interest in archaeology.  I get articles now on my news feeds of all the latest discoveries in the field.  No secrets anymore, I guess.  We can run but we can't hide or something like that.

Fast-forward to the present -- living in an apartment complex.  

Suspended somewhere between then -- a big house in suburbia -- to a third-floor apartment that I've worked at making "homey" while we're here.  And we'll be here until -- well, that's undetermined.  So.  Yeah.  Living suspended.  

But for now, I suppose this is home-away-from-home.  

The lake house is now our HOME.

It's a cool little place.  Quiet.  Beautiful view of a country hillside behind the complex.  Awesome sunset views.  Lovely, intoxicating sunsets.  

Oh, and the third floor is great for privacy.  A pain for early-morning dog walks  -- yep

or hauling in groceries..-- DEFINITELY.

And nope, no elevator!   

Yeah, well, I think of it as just another chance to exercise.  

God knows I need it.  

And besides.  I'm pretty sure third floor is too high for mosquitoes.  

Mosquitoes are afraid of heights.  Right?  

"So it seems," she grinned with delight.  

 It's all good.

 
 

My tiny little balcony is cozy and candle-lit, bordered with plants and flowers and comfy things.  I must have access to the outdoors.  The little balcony is an extension of my living space.

I listen to the quiet, punctuated with tenants coming and going, my Billie Holiday playing softly in the background.  I wonder if they've figured out that I'm an old soul...a jazz lover.  People seem friendly here.  It's a colony of dog-lovers.  Chessie seems to have adapted just fine.    

Me?  I'm still waiting to "settle in" to this chapter.  

But how does one settle into a state of suspension?  

Hello? Anybody home?

I haven't looked to see when I last posted here. 

I know it's been several months.  A year?  Nah.  Not that long.  Surely not. 

What matters is that I bring it back, this thing called purging of the soul.  What did Hemingway say?  "There is nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

I came to bleed.  Bleed my thoughts, my blessings, my fears, my memories, my dreams, my life as I know it now.  Pieces.  Bits and pieces at a time until I find my rhythm again.  To try to catch up where I left off in one -- even a few, or a handful of posts --  is far too overwhelming. 

A day at a time. 
A dream at a time
A word at a time. 
While I find my way back home to my heart's whispers.

Hello.  I'm home!