Today is March Fourth, which usually means march FORTH for me. Assertive action. Definitive movement forward. And yet, I’m spinning my wheels lately. Too much effort for too little impact. And I don’t want to just continue that anymore. It’s not effective. It doesn’t help.
I went to the woods yesterday, where God is coloring new growth in the understory with his spring green crayon, and I heard the monkey-like calls of the birds and the cascading creek and the beating of my heart. I listened, truly listened, and, as always, I trust the journey. And the journey is saying stop. Just stop. Rest against the tree and be strengthened by it until your next marching orders come, if they come at all.
I won’t march on the state capitol today. I won’t even march to the beat of a different drummer to try to come at the world’s problems from a new angle, which used to work but doesn’t anymore. Today, like yesterday, like tomorrow, is now just between me and my maker. Perhaps it always was.