A Quiet Sunday

I haven’t written in a while. Have been questioning if I’m actually a writer, or just nested here for a while to tell my story. If the second one is accurate, then we all have writer in us.

The house is quiet, on a Sunday afternoon.

I hear my landlord mowing the field next to the house. It’s a very soothing sound of the mower coming and going. This time of day is beautiful.

Walking through the yard, I spotted this as a sweet reminder that life can come through even the hardest of surfaces. There is no dirt here, only concrete and rock, but the grass doesn’t mind. It came through just fine.

Grass

 

I started a new job Monday.

My income will increase substantially, and I’m not sure what to do with that, but I think it’s a good problem to have. Reading my devotional this morning I found reassurance. “Start with where you are at this point in time and space, accepting that this is where I intend you to be.”

That was like water to my soul.

Taking one step at a time with this new job was where I had to be. I dove in head first on Monday, became overwhelmed, and started doubting myself. Trusting and relying on God with this, just as I have with everything else.

The blade of grass emerged through the rocky surface to reach the light, and so can I.

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