counting

I might write of the posts begun and abandoned, the thoughts whose tangled strands I followed a brief way before leaving them as too knotted to solve.  I might write the silence of empty offices and empty sidewalks, the obliging grayness of the sky to match my mood.

But I am convinced that all the knots will be untangled at last, perhaps not so soon as I would wish, but with the speed of a God who is not slow as some count slowness.  I am convinced that “empty” and “gray” are not, at last, the adjectives by which I am to be known.

For all my eager beginnings and abandonments, there abides the One Who began a good work in me and Who will bring it to completion. For all my empty, gray times, there is the One in Whose presence is fullness of joy, in Whose right hand are pleasures forever.

Meanwhile, I practice gratitude

*for pink hibiscus flowers on campus today

*for a notebook full of clean blank pages in a mound of discarded things

*for a few luxurious minutes of rain-on-the-roof before I got out of bed

*for five new pages added today to a second thesis chapter

*for family members and friends with whom, very soon, I’ll be laughing

*for another person also writing a paper in the coffee shop, so that, though I don’t know him, I feel I have company

*for sunlight, angling through today’s clouds at last

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