I told myself feelings are not facts and I do believe it.
Add that little saying to all the others, Lisa Anne, over time your happy heart will override your frenzied mind.
Will cushion the knowing that’s gonna grow you, will soften the edges of you, will be a plump pillow for your head at day’s end, sweet rest for the soul.
I listen to a whole lot of stuff when I’m walking, wisdom and or lyrical voices.
I’m particular with my listening, not my favorite thing to learn from tones that are “chipper”.
Cut out the pretty words. I crave what I already know, just need a voice confirming on a firmer note.
I’m down to just a few now, podcasts that are good fits for me.
Yesterday, I silenced my phone.
I paused the voice that was the same as so many with a similar exhortation.
I already knew. I already know.
I’ve got extra blank space now. I’m not sure I’ve ever had so much room in my thoughts for things to grow.
I’m challenged to accept the void of activity. I resist the not knowing what may be next or not come at all.
I walked bored with others’ knowledge and I saw the geese behind their mama all swimming in a row.
But, first I heard them, the rhyme and rhythm of their following along.
I paused then walked on.
I turned the steep sharp corner carefully and hearing a rattling engine moved to the far edge of the high grass.
I was prepared; but, not to be startled, an old van, a bearded tank top man and a head down in the darkness passenger in his midst.
“I’m walking.” I answered when he asked if I needed a ride and then added, “I walk everyday.” wishing I hadn’t added that and hoping he didn’t hear.
He drove away.
I approached the place where the Labrador loved to sit and I heard the croak of a frog off someplace and I remembered the creek of my childhood and those simple and yet complex days.
We walked every day. We took off to our simple shady quiet place.
I turned towards home and saw the bright blooms of summer, found the hidden key, let myself in and then double locked the door.
Later, I told the neighbor, I’ll be walking a new way, find cut throughs through yards. She said okay, suggested I leave one ear without music.
I told my husband.
He listened and agreed on new ways to get to the cul de sacs, the neighborhood and finally the trail I love.
I mentally made a plan.
I expected to be afraid in my sleep, awakened by the encounter of the ones in the old tagless used and beat up van.
But I wasn’t.
I considered the possible intent of the man and I am responding accordingly, not afraid,
I’m changing, I’m listening. I’m learning.
Feelings do not write your stories.
Listen more to what you are seeing now.
Your story was written so very long ago by the one who knows you now and then and in all the days to come.
“O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me. You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my thoughts even when I’m far away. You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.”
Psalms 139:1-3 NLT
Notice the one who takes unending notice of you.
You, who God made fearfully and wonderfully well.
“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!”
Psalms 139:6 NLT