On the seventh day of Christmas

I was reading a favorite blog of mine yesterday and was led to a link of yet another blog. The author briefly mentioned periods of planting, and periods of growing. It really resonated with me. Although we should be growing and progressing constantly, part of growing is planting. We aren't going to be accomplishing things or seeing noticeable growth every minute. There are times when Heavenly Father needs us to simply desire, to plant the seed, to nourish it, and to be the gardener. We cannot constantly be reaping our fields or picking the flowers. As gardeners of our lives, there is sowing to be done, weeding to finish, and watering to see to. Most flowers bloom in their season, but that does not mean that they are not beautiful as bulbs, sprouts, or buds. The trick is to see the beauty of the process, to appreciate the pursuit, and to love the struggle of endeavor. Whatever season my life landscape is in, I want to notice the subtleties and promise of possibility, but glory in the here and now. I am living. Which means I am not planning my life, or remembering the good moments in my life. I am in my life. This is the time I have to live. The only time. Seconds sweep by and heartbeats drum and disappear in life-sustaining repetition. Our earthly measure of life; time, goes by so quickly. The older I get, the more time feels like a train. A train that I sometimes can't quite grab a hold of. One that does not allow me enough long glances at my life landscape; it flashes by through the windows with alarming blurriness. But as I try to appreciate every detail of my landscape, even the hard times seem worth savoring and somehow the trials become especially valuable.
vulnerability

when things aren't glamorous

retreat or attack

regret or renew

it's complicated

what dance taught me about life

repetition

yearning

fear of failure

worries and wonder

falling asleep to day dreams