If I can end.


I’ve been writing more in my journal and in my mind than in my blog, lately.

Writing in my mind?

Yes, that is something I just made up to make thinking sound important. But all speaking, all listening, and even to self with all its divisions and rivalries can be prayer and conversation and learning.

Wherever you write, do you write to discover?

My thoughts are a jumble and I can only unearth what I really mean as I write.  Often when I’m grading essays, I shuffle through words clumsily dropped on a page with no organization or purpose or interest, until — there it is.  The very last paragraph finally finds its meaning. I usually write, Is this what you really meant to write about? That they might turn the conclusion into an introduction and start again, thoughts focused.

The end is the beginning.

Have I even gone far enough into my soul to make the turn?

Far enough into His?


[previous gifts here]

261. Cold sunny walking
262. Gym member status
263. Grating spicy ginger into muffins
264. The realizing of rushing…
265. ..and the stop to close eyes and really taste sweet batter.
266. Good insurance.
267. Blessed assurance.
268. Testing of faith.
269. Church home after two weeks’ absence.
270. Christmas snow globe singing.