The Sower (Sower with Setting Sun) Van Gogh 1888
A loud alarm woke me around 7:30 this morning. Not my plan on a day off. I walked into the living room, looked out windows, trying to figure out what the emergency was. Turned out it was an Amber Alert from my smart phone. That was a first. Groggily I looked through email and then perused facebook. A fellow writing workshop participant, Lisa Nochols Hickman, has a new book out: Mercy and Melons: Praying the Alphabet. It sounds great. It’s also the second book she has published since our workshop. I know I haven’t been a slacker (negative self-talk my daughters would say) but while I have completed one book that was in process during the workshop, I have not made much progress on another that has been incubating in my mind. So, I packed up my computer and a few letters that needed mailed, and walked out my door, heading to Panera’s to write.
The beauty of the morning stopped me in my tracks. Cool clear air. Blue, blue skies. And hours and hours stretching before me. I stood in the driveway, gulping in the air, wishing I had memorized some of Mary Oliver’s poems. Even without her words, I could savor her spirit of knowing prayer in embracing the gifts of creation.
This morning’s gospel was the parable of the sower. I know God’s word sometimes falls on the parts of my heart that are rocky, or filled with thorns, or thin of nurture. But today, I prayed, may it fall on the part that is full of good soil, take root, and find its way into the words I write.
With gratitute: Thanks be to God!
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