The Ides of March, my second Moderna shot, St. Patrick’s Day, the first day of spring, the Lenten Season, and special occasions of the past, the memories all rolled into one week this year. I finally saw and acknowledged them this morning.
How had I not seen them? I couldn’t quite focus on writing for the last two weeks. And the second Covid vaccine hit me with a punch. Last week left an emptiness and a longing. So many clues missed, I said a prayer and let them go again.
Did those hidden memories prompt me to start writing about possibility on Wednesday? Wherever that came from, it didn’t go well. I struggled to find possibility. I still do. So, I scrapped that piece of writing.
Possibility suggests an ability to dream. I dream too small. My youngest child had a favorite book that I would read to her before bed. Dorothy’s Dream, by Kadi MacDonald Denton, it tells the story of a little girl who resisted sleep until she found dreams, at first small dreams. Unlike Dorothy, I’m still struggling to grow my dreams.
A small voice whispers, it’s not too late: With God all things are possible.
Naked Soul Thoughts 