The scent of warmth greeted my weary senses when I entered my room last night. The clock said
12:41, and after a cramped 8 hours in a car surrounded by pouring rain, the sweet touch of home pulled hard at the tension twisted through my frame.
I put away my things, and curled up under my blankets, my head against a pillow that had afforded me little rest on the trip, now embracing my sleepy brain.
Mom let us sleep in this morning, sleep so blessed, so comforting, that when I rose my mind was at rest. I was ready to begin again, to court the duties of the day with determined strength. But it did not last long. Those duties began to rush in. Math, so much Math, thoughts of the coming weekend and all I must do to prepare, of the coming weeks, even the coming months, and all the things for which completion seems impossible.
I feel as if I am in the car again, caught in a never ending waiting, waiting for all these burdens to fall, waiting to be done with them,
so that I may move on.
But there is no peace in waiting, in waiting to reach a goal, in waiting to see my visions realized, in waiting for my own Mr. Knightley to bless me with his presence,
in waiting for God to
clear my head of my own weaknesses and fear.
There is no peace here.
None.
So I must stop waiting, stop waiting and start doing. I must press forward, move my feet toward the light, no matter how far away it seems.
And if I need stop, to be still,
I will not be waiting, I will be knowing. Knowing that I am safe in His presence, knowing that no matter the future that nudges my present, nor the past that has shaped where I am now, I am wrapped in the blessedness of the moment. I am bound in a warmth I cannot express, and
my heart can be at peace.
From the bottom of my heart,
Emma
Note: I wrote these thoughts after a long trip home from Arkansas the weekend before last. Looking back, now, at the wisdom the Lord gave me, I am blessed again by the love no mortal man can describe.
