I spent part of my morning before work discovering new bands. This proved to be helpful and really lifted my spirits. I discovered what may be my new favorite song ("in Pieces" by Mae). I felt very lifted up today. It seemed to be a day of small victories and good feelings, but no real steps forward. Just more dancing around in a masquerade.
I drove home sometime after five. As I drove down 581, I saw a darkening sky, covered in tainted ivory and coal-brushed cotton. The air was cool, damp, and that dirtiest of all dirty words [bat]; promising. As I drove by a cathedral, I waived to God. The closest I have come to speaking to Him. It hit me. I haven't even prayed.
I have been content to let God talk to me... and I listen. I truly do. That's what that night at Flanary's was really all about. I was listening to God. I just took all of it in. The thing is, I have not spoken back. It's silly really. I know that He knows what is on my mind either way, but not saying anything keeps the communication one way. I think that for me, the big deal is that the moment that I talk to Him... the moment I pray, it's going to happen. I don't think I will be able to maintain this distance anymore... and that scares me.
It truly is what I want, God's love. I am also very afraid of the change. I fear the shift. How stubborn.
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