I keep sitting down at the computer keyboard -- fingers on keys on the home row, fingers then hovering above the keys. Uncertain. Unsure.
What if I’m doing the wrong thing? Am I in God’s will with this? Am I bringing Him glory . . . or me?
It all swirls and twirls as I hear cutlery clanking in the sink, water running, and my husband humming.
I join him to do the dishes, him pleased to have figured out the intro piece on his guitar for a new song the praise & worship team will be playing on Sunday. (I think he sounds even more pleased when I said I quit procrastinating and started writing. But it may just be me.)
Snippets of stories read – aching in their beauty – mingle with ideas for stories of my own in the verbal lulls. And I wonder.
What beauty? What grace? What mercy can I convey? Whether in fact or through fiction? What truth can be shared? Love shown? Hope poured out?
Even with the twists, the dips, the doubts, and vistas (all as yet unseen) ahead, I think, This – grow this. Dig it up from its hiding place and let it grow.
I hope in my heart to hear, to know “. . . and it was good.”
So I start. Fingers on keyboard keys. Clicking away.