July is a crazy month for us this year. I'm home for a few days respite (ie, wash clothes, get some rest, play with dogs, get a hair-cut) before leaving again for another 10 days. By the time I'm back, Most of the month will be gone, and I will have written less here than any time since I started this blog six years ago.
That's also because a whole lot of hard work has been done in the last ten days, a lot of hard emotional work. It's the kind of work that does not bear talking about. Even one such as myself who bears her soul with ease and regularity draws the line somewhere. And there are times.
And this is the time.
So I sit quietly in my house where fans blow and dogs sleep and the hot summer sun does its best to penetrate the carefully drawn blinds, and I wait and listen for God to bring clarity and wisdom.
Then Beve and I will pack our car, head down the freeway to meet friends who can counsel and pray and rest with us.
We aren't alone in having this kind of summer.
All around us are those with heavy hearts.
Yes, everywhere we turn there are hearts to match the heavy heat so uncommon here in the Northwest (so uncommon few of us have air-conditioning).
I don't know what this is about, but I do know to whom to turn.
So I sit.
And look forward to the next trip. The fellowship, the counsel, the prayers.
The sharing of burdens on every side.
And yes, the laughter, too.
If you don't hear from me until the end of the month, now you understand why.
Until August, Maranatha.