After I returned from my four-day writer's conference in Dallas, I had just enough time to unpack, do laundry and then leave the next morning to drive to California for my father's memorial.
During the long drive, mostly on interstate 80 (you probably know how boring that route is) I talked my husband's ears off.
I told him about my experiences in Dallas,
The people I met and talked to,
The information I'd gleaned from the classes and agent/editor appointments.
We discussed what God has been teaching us from scripture reading and prayer.
We sang hymns and wondered if any of the hymnal publishers have thought to produce an e-hymnal so us traveling singers could sing hymns while we drive through Nevada.
We speculated on how the next few days would go, and how to juggle seeing my mother and siblings so that no one felt that we had ignored them.
We planned our daily agenda and which times and routes we would take into San Francisco, then San Jose, then Fremont, then back to Lafayette.
I practiced "playing" on my knees the piano pieces I would be playing for the memorial.
Then we arrived in the Bay Area.
During the next four days leading up to the Friday morning memorial service Bruce and I tried to remain civil toward each other. The stress of the frenetic visit made us both snappy and on edge.
By Saturday, the day of our departure, Bruce and I both felt completely drained.
As we drove back east, I tried to revisit some of the subjects we'd discussed during our drive out to California.
No ideas came.
No scriptures.
No deep thoughts about life and death and mortality.
My mind felt completely drained of energy.
The only thing that ran through my head on that long trip back were the tunes and words from the hymns I'd played for Daddy's service.
Over and over the words played in my mind.
"Great is Thy Faithfulness, O God, my Father.
There is no shadow of turning with Thee.
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not.
As Thou has been, Thou forever will be.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
Morning by morning, new mercies I see.
All I have needed, Thy had hath provided.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto to me."
I think sometimes God lets our minds run down so we can do nothing more but listen to Him.
Listen to Him as He reminds us about Himself.
It's so easy to shut God out when we're on auto-pilot.
I picture Him folding His arms over his chest and saying, "All right then, have it your way."
Then He waits for us to crash.
And when we've got our faces in the dirt, He speaks quietly.
"Are you ready to listen to Me?"
"Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me.
See, on the portal He's watching and waiting, waiting for you and for me.
Come home, come home, ye who are weary, come home.
Earnestly, tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me."
During the long drive, mostly on interstate 80 (you probably know how boring that route is) I talked my husband's ears off.
I told him about my experiences in Dallas,
The people I met and talked to,
The information I'd gleaned from the classes and agent/editor appointments.
We discussed what God has been teaching us from scripture reading and prayer.
We sang hymns and wondered if any of the hymnal publishers have thought to produce an e-hymnal so us traveling singers could sing hymns while we drive through Nevada.
We speculated on how the next few days would go, and how to juggle seeing my mother and siblings so that no one felt that we had ignored them.
We planned our daily agenda and which times and routes we would take into San Francisco, then San Jose, then Fremont, then back to Lafayette.
I practiced "playing" on my knees the piano pieces I would be playing for the memorial.
Then we arrived in the Bay Area.
During the next four days leading up to the Friday morning memorial service Bruce and I tried to remain civil toward each other. The stress of the frenetic visit made us both snappy and on edge.
By Saturday, the day of our departure, Bruce and I both felt completely drained.
As we drove back east, I tried to revisit some of the subjects we'd discussed during our drive out to California.
No ideas came.
No scriptures.
No deep thoughts about life and death and mortality.
My mind felt completely drained of energy.
The only thing that ran through my head on that long trip back were the tunes and words from the hymns I'd played for Daddy's service.
Over and over the words played in my mind.
"Great is Thy Faithfulness, O God, my Father.
There is no shadow of turning with Thee.
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not.
As Thou has been, Thou forever will be.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
Morning by morning, new mercies I see.
All I have needed, Thy had hath provided.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto to me."
I think sometimes God lets our minds run down so we can do nothing more but listen to Him.
Listen to Him as He reminds us about Himself.
It's so easy to shut God out when we're on auto-pilot.
I picture Him folding His arms over his chest and saying, "All right then, have it your way."
Then He waits for us to crash.
And when we've got our faces in the dirt, He speaks quietly.
"Are you ready to listen to Me?"
"Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me.
See, on the portal He's watching and waiting, waiting for you and for me.
Come home, come home, ye who are weary, come home.
Earnestly, tenderly Jesus is calling, calling for you and for me."
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