I rush to move forward in the story
pencil sprinting across the page
fingertips clicking to race the raindrop rhythm outside
and the storm grows nearer
and
Bam.
the wall towers.
the breeze, the rush, the thrill is gone
I stand still and look up, dreaming of leaping over in a single bound
Begging for the quick fix thought, sentence, word that will bypass the climb
But it's a barefoot grip with shaking toes and fingers
it's slips and falls, its grunts and lip bites
sweat and quivering aching muscles crawling inch by inch.
Sometimes no matter how many times you march around the city,
no matter how loud you blow the trumpets,
the walls remain.
Calling us to claw our way inch by inch
because Your whispers are in the work.
Your holiness in the harness
Your voice in the vigor.
The blank page stares
The blank screen dares
from the God who cares.
"Inspiration usually comes during work rather than before it." Madeleine L'Engle
"Clean the slate so we can start the day fresh !Keep me from from thinking I can take over-so I can start this day sun-washed clean." Psalm 19:12
"Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility." Saint Augustine
