My Autobahn, My Studio, and the Gift of Personal Postcards
This day has been lived on the Autobahn. There has been no time to consume any type of nourishment and thus, it sounds like an angry lion is residing inside of my stomach. Ugh! What to do? I am attending a dinner birthday party at seven, which means we easily won't eat till eight. Making a decision that could be regrettable later, I am heating up some tomato bisque. Adding a tantalizing white cheddar grilled cheese sandwich will be scrumptious. Tonight, I simply need comfort.
Sliding into my plum overstuffed chair in my studio, I feel it wrap itself around me, inviting me to breath deeply and find stillness. The deliciousful food is rejuvenating my tired body.
From my cocooned position, my eyes survey my studio. It is my sanctuary. It is where I create, but it is also where my heart and mind find rest.
I look at the table next to my chair. My eyes are drawn to the pile of postcards. These cards are comprised both of personal photos turned into postcards, and those glossy postcards bought at the store.
Both types contain life-giving words delicately woven together, like a fine tapestry, from those who know me best. Words that provide much needed nourishment for my soul.
As I sit cocooned in my favorite lemon yellow blanket, my thoughts turn into conversation between my Abba and me. I hear my voice audibly asking for an increased ability to see and hear whatever He finds important tonight. My thoughts waltz around the room and my prayers spill out of me, like water falling over a waterfall. Moments turn into minutes and my heart is saturated with His peace and presence.
In the stillness of this moment I hear Him whisper, "Get off the autobahn and allow the written words from ME to bathe your soul." Immediately, my heart protests, "But I do!" Where did THAT come from? Ugh! My flesh has a difficult time dying. I glance at the book resting on my lap. It is in this moment that I understand. His words written in this book are like one BIG postcard to me. I have to wonder if I would read them differently if they arrived each day via snail mail in small sound bites on postcards? Would I look forward to reading them, the way I do when these postcards arrive from the ones that know me best? Would I experience the nourishment that my soul longs for?
Today when you take some moments to read His words to you, may you think of them as "Postcards" coming to you from the one who thought you up and longs to nourish your soul.
Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl