“The days are long but the years are short” is humming in my mind. It’s a warm afternoon after a long season of cold, and I’m watching my girls play in the soft green grass as they pick dandelions to make into bracelets and crowns. They twirl and laugh and suddenly I’m seeing them do the same, a year ago.
I lose my breath each May. It’s a busy time of year with endings and beginnings and weren’t we just doing this, and somehow they are all magically one year older. I’m one year older.
|Photo Courtesy of Jennifer Upton http://http://asharedlens.smugmug.com/|
Here I sit at my desk. Again. I pound out words on a screen, some of which are shared while others are stored up. Some come easy and others are hard fought. We keep doing this, don’t we? Create. Create. Create. The world swirls by us as we do the things we were made to do.
The daily rhythms of the essentials is hypnotic, and I lose all sense of time.
The days are long but the years are short.
Today I share my weekly reflection at The Story Sessions site, where brave, creative women gather. Care to join us and read the rest? We'd love to pray with you and encourage you.