I sat down to write, and forgot what it was I wanted to say.
Earlier, I had a thought in passing, which I should have written down. The notebook and pen were in my hands at the moment the thought went skipping across my synapses, leaving a sparkly trail in their wake. (Yes, my synapses sparkle.)
It’s too late now, that chance is gone. That thought now buried in a myriad of others that took its place. Thoughts of kids and shoes and who left the cereal bowl on the table, and let’s get in the car for church.
Why do I do that? Why do I wait for something before I get around to whatever it is that I want to get around to? Why do I put off everything – even the little things? Things like jotting down a passing thought. A thought which I know would have blossomed into something bigger and more beautiful, because that thought was only a seed. It was ready to germinate.
No wonder I can’t garden, and I’ve barely kept my one houseplant alive.
If I can’t bother to care for seeds within myself, how on earth do I ever expect to care for any of the kind I could stick in the dirt?
Guess I should write that down.
Grace & Peace,