If Meadows Speak....: when words are frozen thick like ice

I've been paralyzed, lately. They say to push through the silence and write anyway but even my pusher seems broken.

I've been busy?with more than just working this land (we have 400 bales in a field waiting to be "{wo}man" handled onto a trailer). It's all the questions and contemplating in my head that keeps me occupied.

Even tonight (middle of the night 'til morning), here I am writing because I can't seem to stop thinking long enough during the day to write anything at all.

Until it's time to sleep and I think, "I need to write so I can process all this thinking!"

So I've been doing mindless stuff. I peruse other blogs, read online news, check in with facebook, go swimming, mow the grass,?head to the?fields?with our John Deere tractor and hay rake, decorate the house.

Anything but write.

I have a split personality. One that can't imagine not writing, and the other that wonders why I write at all. Deep down I think I have?the disease of?commitment phobitis for things I'm passionate about doing. So I run for the hills.

That is, until the hills take my breath away and I need to write about them.

But for now, I question why it's hard to be the Body? I mean really be the Body. And where am I in all that?

What is enough, anyway? When is it enough and, poof!, there's the answer?

Why?does it feel like I'm breathing?stagnant air with every sluggish letter I type? Is that?good discipline or uninspired?self-will to take action against my inaction?

I know this--I need to process and soon. That will mean writing. But I'm not ready, yet.

This where I should get all David-y and turn this "psalm" around.

The sun is up now. Daring me to be as bold and bright as?it's greeting this morning. Light is flooding the whole earth while I soak it in, my eyes like beacons to my heart.

"See that heart? All that glossy green waving at you as it sways with a shine from a cloudless sky? Feel that warm summer breeze making that beautiful orange butterfly dance over the flower? (Speaking of butterflies, there have been so many, I don't remember seeing this many before.) Oh and heart, the rainbow last weekend, 'memba that?"

God is revealing Himself, all the time. Even if I don't have enough even two words to rub together to?say it.

He never stops His Word. He is always writing and speaking.

So there is hope.

At Lisa Jo's....

Source: http://ifmeadowsspeak.blogspot.com/2012/07/when-words-are-frozen-thick-like-ice.html

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