Pages flutter seeking release.
The blowing whispers, "Fly!", and they scatter, obeying, heeding.
Skittering past blades of green, they leap through air like so many frogs, escaping my grasp.
Ah! I need these papers! They are important!
I chase. And grasp and spin. In all directions. Impatient. Frustrated.
Frantic to gather. To sort. To cause the flying to cease.
One last page flutters, too slow to escape me. I nab it, crinkled and torn.
I grab a rock close at hand and weigh the pages down, to protect them, keep them safe.
The
day is too lovely to spend indoors, so I had ventured out. To cooling
breeze and fresh air. Only to have the important go leaping.
As wind riffled through pages now weighted, I considered.
How
often my life resembles my chasing. I run, frantic, after the
important, the urgent. I grasp and spin. In all directions. Impatient.
Frustrated. At all I have to do. All that is yet to be done.
How do I weigh down my days? Cease the rushing?
Yesterday I was daughter. Today, I cuddle my daughter's daughter.
How do I keep the blowing from causing my days to fly?
"In
the beginning You laid the foundations of the earth and the heavens are
the work of Your hands. They will perish, but You will remain... You
remain the same, and Your years will never end." Psalm 102: 25-27
The rock to weight my days is the Eternal God. Never changing. Never ending.
Pages may flutter and days may fly but God is immovable, steadfast.
I seek Him and time slows.
I have found a weight, glorious.
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