This week’s recycled post comes from two years ago. The manuscript for A Different Dream for My Child had recently been sent to the publisher. Allen was job hunting in the midst of the worst recession since the early 1980s. Mom had decided to sell her house and permanently move in with my brother’s family. Looking back on that busy winter, I’m grateful for this quieter January with enough time in it to complete my new book. Much has changed in the past two years, but one thing remains true. God’s timing is always perfect.
Neither Easy or Quick – Recycled
What with digging out from frequent snowfalls, figuring out Mom’s finances, helping our son get back on his feet, and meeting church obligations, very little has been easy or quick this month. Every week, I’ve sandwiched in a little writing time here and there, but much of it has been shoved to the side.
Last week, my calendar for the following week looked relatively free, so I though things would turn around when it arrived. But then Allen called. “I start a new job on Wednesday, so I’m driving down Monday to pick up some things I’ll need and spend the night.” Then my cousin Gail called. “I’ll be in Ames Monday. Can I stop by to visit?” Suddenly Monday was booked, but after Allen left early Tuesday I would have all morning to write before spending the afternoon with Mom.
Monday night Allen asked, “Do you want to go to the bakery for a quick breakfast?” Every cell in my body wanted to shout, “No, I want to write,” but I held those pesky words in check. We had gone seven long years without the small delight of breakfast at the bakery, I reminded myself. So Tuesday morning we braved the frigid dawn and spent an hour talking over pastries and coffee.
The cold swirled around my ankles as we drove home. “I think I’ll walk indoors instead of bundling up and going outside,” I told Allen.
“But Mom,” he said. “it’s not windy. And the sun’s shining. Do you want to miss that?”
The sun warmed my back as I walked. The snow drifts sculpted by last week’s ground blizzards flaunted their ridges and curves with every step I took. The walk was what I needed. I thought about the momentary, fleeting gifts I’d already received that morning – confidences shared at breakfast and the parade of stark winter beauty lining my gravel road. Neither easy or quick, yet happiness sank deep into my heart.
