I awakened Saturday morning with a sense of urgency. I'd missed an editorial deadline for which there were no excuses. Totally mea culpa.
I'd begged for mercy -
a few more days - and it was graciously granted, but I was humbled - fully aware I'd deserved a reprimand instead.
By Saturday morning, those
few more days had come to an end. I was
this close to dotting all my i's and crossing all my t's and sending my work on its way wrapped in humble apologies, and I'd promised myself I'd do so first thing - before wandering and wondering and the distractions of color and light could lure me away.
I carried my necessary writing tools - laptop and coffee (life can be so simple sometimes. can't it?) outside to the backyard swing. I'd spent most of last weekend wrapped in blankets, fighting off the chills and fever of a stomach virus, then four days on the east coast playing with those two little ones who call me mimi. The quiet and cool, fresh air would clear my thoughts and my work would be on its way in no time at all, I thought.
If only I had not seen the way the sunlight glittered on the dew dappled grass or collected in beads on the leaves of the flame bush, or the scarlet hibiscus preparing to praise as she opened her petals to the sun, or the ripening berries and lonely zinnia...
..and the spiny black caterpillar munching on thorny leaves
...and the bouquets of milkweed rising out of the tangled viney thickets.
My spirit was willing, but my flesh was weak. I wandered and wondered first. Can you blame me?
I finished my work and sent it merrily on its way.
And I considered the costly and measureless grace and mercy of God, and how grateful I am for the way grace and mercy are often extended to me by others - by family, and friends, and editors, and probably strangers, as well.
(With my laptop closed, I was eating a bowl of curds and whey (yogurt) when along came this little green spider, who sat down beside
her me, but he failed to frighten me away. Doesn't he look like he's wearing spectacles?)
