The Case of the Blinking Cursor Disease

So much going on here.

I could write ten pages about any one topic right now.

I sit and stare at the lap top screen.

blink

blink

blink


I sat and stared at the screen as we made huge changes to our summer,

stepping back,

stepping down,

stepping away.

Huge changes for two very {type a} people.

No words for so much change.


Feeling all of these little kicks and punches and inside somersaults. . . daring to hope and dream and searching and finding some amazing names and {endless} debate over perfect spellings and meanings. . .

But no words.


One year mark of our little man's Jesus-meeting;

It was as beautiful as a day like that could be, filled with

family

friends

support

love

sunshine

barbecue

lots of ice cream

trampoline

pool

little orange japanese lanterns. . .

strange, strange peace.

But no words.


Someday soon, again there will be words.

For now I think a blinking cursor kind of defines who I am.

Blink

blink

blink.

God. . . still not sure what You are doing.

blink

blink

blink

God, I trust Your heart.

blink

blink

blink

. . . .

I'll be back soon.