When an artist chooses to be generous, everyone wins.....The more personal you are with your art, the more generally it applies to those who are there to receive it.
I just want to write.
Not because it is brilliant or amazing or life-shattering.
But because the words backlogged in my soul need a voice, an outlet, a courier to another place besides my analytical head.
Life has became busy and slow.
At the same time.
I'm not sure that makes any sense.
I suppose it doesn't have to.
It just is.
Visit Granny in hospital. Rest. Take care of my flu-ridden body. Rest. Go to work. Rest. Fight the gas company to help us get heat. Rest.
There has not been a lot of margin lately.
You know what I mean.
The kind where you feel comfy and settled with an open playground for your mind and heart and soul to set sail onto new adventures and discoveries of both the known and the unknown.
So today...because I do not really have the answers or my thoughts organized in SUCH a beautiful way....I just write this chapter of my story -- bare and broken -- yet filled with redemption.
The unfinished life holds more beauty than one can understand as the words fill the pages of that moment.
I am writing tonight as I take a shift sitting at my grandmother's beside to give my mother and aunts some much needed rest. Granny, after neck surgery 3 weeks ago, had been admitted to rehab on Tuesday, but is now back in the hospital with her third UTI. Your prayers for her and my family are MOST appreciated. Thank you in advance, dear friends and readers.....
Sometimes in life's harder moments, I find my spirit gravitates towards songs and principles learned in my childhood. Here is the song I have been singing to myself and my grandmother, off and on, over the past few weeks
Click here to view if you are reading in an e-mail or RSS feed.