Sometimes stories must be told halfway through their making. Sometimes we don’t have all the data neatly collected before we can move forward with the writing. In some arenas this is easier to submit to than others. There is a bottomless abyss of research materials which I could plumb before I ever start this draft.
In other aspects of life, it is not only the variables of the present and past which hold us captive but also the hope and fear of what’s to come. If I could only see five years ahead, at least. To know what’s to come of this–of this waiting and watching as life moves at its own pace, one moment at a time.
Each moment presses in on me.
I felt mortality this morning. What have I done? What would I leave behind? Uncle Screwtape has wisely paired me with a demon who speaks to my myriad weaknesses and my pride. The ever-familiar paralysis of perfectionism sets in. “Don’t try if you might fail.” “Don’t ask a question unless you already know the answer.” “Don’t be vulnerable unless you can predict it will ultimately be to your advantage.” Low and guttural, the voices rumble on. I understand them. They are old enemies who, by virtue of time, have blurred into something resembling friendship. But the peace which surpasses all understanding…how difficult it is to submit to that which we do not understand when we hold understanding in such high regard.
Evergreen 