I'm tired after my third twelve hour shift this week with an unexpected doubling back from last night into today. That was totally unexpected, but someone did get sick and another had a house fire yesterday, so that five thirty call in the morning had me moving. I kept moving enough today to not feel the weariness, until about six thirty. I am so tired, food does not appeal to me. I manage a peanut butter and dried mixed berries sandwich, and some corn chips. Cookies sit unopened on the kitchen table.
I'm compelled to write. I love the feel of words crawling from my fingers. I know what I write this evening will be small. I shouldn't probably write at all for public eyes, but I see there aren't too many reading anyways, so I will hit the orange rust button above this space to publish.
I wonder about my writing. Will it take off? No one has responded to my last post. I feel discouraged. I won't give over to the tiredness to fuel my discouragement. I know tomorrow, a kiss of God will come. So, I have posted. I am built up by reading other posts. What would I do if I gave up writing? Gardening? I can write in all weather, great for where I live as that is one thing that can't be depended upon- weather.
I listen to the crickets, glad for the bright days, warm sunshine and night slowly cooling. I feel peace. Waiting is hard, I want it all now and think if I hesitate I'll lose. Circumstances teach me patience and to wait on God's time, because really what else is there?