If I hadn’t stepped away from the large canvas covered in colors I’m not happy with
I’d not have texted my daughter to check on her daughter’s fever.
I’d not have gotten her good word,
Walk it out. HB
If I hadn’t told her I was unhappy with the painting.
If I hadn’t said “Yep.” with such resolve I may not have walked at all.
Not too cold.
Sun still and I told myself as I struck out I’d been walking this way for a while.
This walking strongly, walking as a prescription, walking fast, walking with a song.
If I hadn’t decided to pause to notice the squirrel I’d not have tilted my face to find the 3/4 moon against blue vastness.
I wouldn’t have lingered happy with the way the sun glazed the crinkly branches.
I would not have noticed the male cardinal on the tip top skinny gray and fragile limb.
Color so red. I rested.
I paused and then walked.
If the sun had not been fading down I’d not have seen my shadow like a reflection on the side of a house.
The shadow showing in the forward force of my arms, my legs, my shoulders, what I felt.
And going, going.
If I hadn’t taken the long way around over dread of sundown, I’d not have heard the few lines about story in a song.
Bear your cross as you wait for your crown. Tell the world of the treasure you’ve found. Elevation Worship, Come to the Altar
No, if I’d not paused from frustrated creating, I’d not have been restored.
To again be creative.
Bursting in a slow promise.
Walking, a pause at the altar
Laying down burdens and writing new stories.
Pausing for treasure.