Quiet Space

A foggy morning follows the thunderstorm that blew in Tuesday night. Deer graze in the pasture near the house across the street. The birds are singing, celebrating -- does the moisture refresh them too?

I fold a boldly colored blanket across the base of the guest bed, adding the books I am reading which refuse to conform to a neat pile.

There is much work to be done here.

Not in this guest room, this space, but within me. Old patterns of speech and thinking need to fall aside to make way for the new-to-me concepts, processes, skills and tools of Restorative Justice.

My heart is heavy and quiet with anticipation, like a woman's womb before childbirth, engaging both apprehension and excitement at the wonder of what God is unfolding.

R


"My heart needs a quiet space in the stillness of time." -- Widowspeak