Beethoven is playing on Pandora this morning. The girls droop and say Moonlight Sonata makes them sad, can we please listen to Newsboys. No. Not while I make this meager attempt to blog. They shrug and melt into the quietness with me.
Boxes from party gifts, along with bits of crafts and plastic cups are strewn throughout the house from Littlest Girl's birthday party, and I procrastinate in the clean-up so I can do this thing I'm not sure matters. I've tossed this blogging idea around all year, wondering if I'm just climbing on the bandwagon or really have something to say.
But what happens when I write about the mysteries of God in the mundane living is that I see things more clearly. Words chosen, organized, and put down hard on the page become more real than random thoughts. It helps me grow, and perhaps someone along the way will find more realness in reading these words.
Short words are best and old words are best of all.
-Winston Churchill
I will be brief in my posts, as Churchill suggests. As a songwriter, I am used to distilling to the barest notion. I will search out the ancient wisdom that resonates in me like gently hammered piano strings. Words of Christ and the saints.
But I will share newly discovered mysteries, too, in piles of laundry and stacks of dishes and spilling off little tongues.
If you'll oblige, I'll meet you in the everydayness and in the ancient dust.
