If these words were music and music could speak as it often does it would speak of a time of wait. No words, just an interlude of sorts. It is beautiful, but words being interjected into it. It feels so unnatural.
And I am waiting for that perfect word to say…to speak. But I know not those perfect words.
If I am not to just do in these words, but do rather that which is most important in them and with them it will be to do very little with them at this time.
I’m waiting and being faithful in the meantime to do follow and heed and see what comes.
JG
The righteous man will flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Planted in the house of the Lord, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still yield fruit in old age; they shall be full of sap and very green. Psalm 92:12-15
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