Hmmmm. Too much excitement. I'd gone to bed a couple hours ago, but awoke and feel like I'm going to stay up for a while. It's 11:37 p.m.
The excitement involves, of course, our new grandbaby. (How cool is that?)
But it also involves this writing assignment. Suddenly potentialities have begun springing to mind--other publications, other uses, for the material. Other avenues of research, and longer pieces that could be written. Much longer, if you get my drift. (Yes, I've seriously been studying that option--have been reading my "Idiot's Guide" book on the topic which I bought a few years ago but never cracked open. Am I dreamin? God knows...)
The excitement alternately exhilarates (briefly, slightly) then deflates. Burns me out. Leaves me gasping. Sends me to prayer.
I've begun learning that when I reach that state, there's one, and only one, remedy, and it's as old as a Fannie Crosby hymn. (Much older, actually.) "Take it to the Lord in prayer." (I know Fannie didn't write that one, by the way.)
Such times of communion involve (1) bringing to mind each worrisome thought, each troubling responsibility, each bewildering choice, each impossible situation and (2) "off-loading" it, as one radio preacher once put it, onto God.
It's recognizing again who I am--frail, fragile, finite--and who God is (the opposite of all of the above).
So having written that, I now will see if I can get my act together and begin again to think about sleep. I'll be pulling out, for sure, my Ellis Peters mystery novel (she wrote all those Brother Cadfael mysteries), Holiday With Violence. I picked it up years ago for a few coins at a library sale. It was first printed in 1951 when I was one years old. For some reason it fascinates me to think about the way life was back then, when I was on earth but clueless.
The plot? While on vacation, four young adults traveling a crowded train through Italy find themselves caught up in a case of murder.
So, that about wraps it up. A meandering and pointless conclusion to this blog entry. After all, I'm trying to trick my brain into starting to feel v-e-e-e-e-r-y s-l-e-e-p-y, and what better way than to write pointlessly and boringly?
(Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)
The excitement involves, of course, our new grandbaby. (How cool is that?)
But it also involves this writing assignment. Suddenly potentialities have begun springing to mind--other publications, other uses, for the material. Other avenues of research, and longer pieces that could be written. Much longer, if you get my drift. (Yes, I've seriously been studying that option--have been reading my "Idiot's Guide" book on the topic which I bought a few years ago but never cracked open. Am I dreamin? God knows...)
The excitement alternately exhilarates (briefly, slightly) then deflates. Burns me out. Leaves me gasping. Sends me to prayer.
I've begun learning that when I reach that state, there's one, and only one, remedy, and it's as old as a Fannie Crosby hymn. (Much older, actually.) "Take it to the Lord in prayer." (I know Fannie didn't write that one, by the way.)
Such times of communion involve (1) bringing to mind each worrisome thought, each troubling responsibility, each bewildering choice, each impossible situation and (2) "off-loading" it, as one radio preacher once put it, onto God.
It's recognizing again who I am--frail, fragile, finite--and who God is (the opposite of all of the above).
So having written that, I now will see if I can get my act together and begin again to think about sleep. I'll be pulling out, for sure, my Ellis Peters mystery novel (she wrote all those Brother Cadfael mysteries), Holiday With Violence. I picked it up years ago for a few coins at a library sale. It was first printed in 1951 when I was one years old. For some reason it fascinates me to think about the way life was back then, when I was on earth but clueless.
The plot? While on vacation, four young adults traveling a crowded train through Italy find themselves caught up in a case of murder.
So, that about wraps it up. A meandering and pointless conclusion to this blog entry. After all, I'm trying to trick my brain into starting to feel v-e-e-e-e-r-y s-l-e-e-p-y, and what better way than to write pointlessly and boringly?
(Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)
posted by Ted | 10:36 PM
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