Inspiration has a way of sneaking up on you from unexpected sources sparking flashes of creativity. Lucky for us, there seems to be a limitless supply of what and when and how. And of course, on the flip side, what gives us that kick of momentum once doesn’t necessarily mean going back to the same well will quench again. It all feels quite magical* and other worldly spiritual. 

 “to have no good arguments to support your position” 

Most often when I write there is a quiet, gentle purposeful undertone bubbling beneath a story that I hope brings pleasure and a break from the crazy or mundane of the day. I hope my tactics employed for a chuckle or right-out laughter serves to enhance the deeper purpose of attempting to wrestle out the meaning of some new thought or point in the direction of a graceful truth of a lesson learned.

There’s a little square tin adding warmth and charm to a handmade bedside table in the guest bedroom. Inside the tin are 200 - well, 197 to be exact - pieces of a puzzle. The first time I put this puzzle together I was 9 years old. It was difficult because of the uniquely shaped pieces, but the colors and completed scene were comforting and compelling. Why I chose to hang onto this particular puzzle of my childhood when there had been countless others to choose from, I am not quite sure. Especially knowing a piece or two were missing.

Give me a field of wildflowers any day. 

Last we spoke I talked about my Kia Soul (If you missed it, you can read that story here: Now That I Have a Soul / Blog | Sojourner's Yarn (sojournersyarn.online). Rejoiced even with my good fortune of driving a bright and shiny brand-new car. And then, a turn of events.  

It took three years, but I finally finished. On February 20, 2021, I joined a group of women hikers thinking I just might find my tribe. By this time, I already had enough hikes in to know this activity was something I enjoyed, was challenging my limits, but also opening up some creative thoughts and releasing some stored emotions. 

No matter how loud I turned the radio or how gently I stepped on the accelerator, I could no longer deny something was wrong. Topping off the oil nearly every week was beginning to get old. People were beginning to stare as I thumped into parking spots not to mention I was finding myself a wee bit reluctant to go very far. After one more “second opinion” the message was clear: “Your vehicle is a ticking time bomb. It’s only a matter of time before x, y or z happens and then…”

God. Such a convenience.  Easily praised in the good times; yet so often the first to be blamed in the midst of the bad. He is so wonderful when life goes smooth but hit a bump in the road and the finger pointing begins. I have witnessed, time and time again, the scenario of devout believers losing all faith when tragedy strikes. Don’t get me wrong, terrible things happen, truly faith-shaking realities - a child dies, cancer appears, leaders fall. But those are the times we turn to God, not walk away, right?

Use what you will - numbers, stars, signs - no matter how you configure them, all will align agreeably when it comes to how I am most likely to proceed with life. 

The conversation between you and me was coming along nicely for this little talk-about. I could see it unfold like a flower opening for morning’s light and then closing in a tight embrace as evening falls holding all the words of encouragement for further contemplation. Words! How I love them! Their ability to create worlds, images, emotions from…nothing, really. Power, love, ideas. Thoughts made concrete. Certainly, this love is no surprise what with me pecking out my words in type attempting to harness some connection between thoughts and humanity. 

“We know we have done our job well if our passengers enjoy their cruise completely unaware of the inner workings of a 61,000 ton vessel.”