Gd likes to send me words, sentences, and paragraphs. Sometimes He will send me a whole article, from start to finish,complete with details, punctuation, and concluding remarks. Sometimes He has me writing it in my head the entire day; while I pick up my daughter from school, while I shove food hurriedly into the oven, and while I am singing them to sleep at night.
When the lights are off and the door is closed ( slightly ajar), the husband is fed and the calm has decended, I rip open the laptop and try to jot it all down. Usually, I find it's better as it comes out. It's like Gd is fanning the fire as my fingers click-clack across the keyboard, elucidating and adding adverbs as we go, together. And I finish the last few clickety clacks, and breathe, stepping back, a feeling of appreciation and satisfcation. A joint partnership of creativity.
But sometimes, He sends me all the right messages, and all the right stories, but I tell Him: Just Wait. Wait until tomorrow. Wait until the next day. Wait until the bills are paid and the clothes are washed. Wait until I find time to put You and Your ideas in my busy life.
And I find that when I tell Him to wait, He stops sending. I stop receiving ideas or insights. My mind starts to bore me and tells me nothing is new, nothing is new again. Nothing is interesting. What's to write down?
And the bills are never paid, and the clothes are never finished, but still my mind waits. Waits for the inspiration to come, the electricity to fire.
So I reach out.
"I'm ready," I say. " I won't bug you off this time. I won't insist I don't have ten minutes to jot down Your latest poem, Your latest impassioned plea for humanity through my fingertips. I'll do it. Please, just give me it back. The words, the thoughts. The inspiration."
It usually takes a day or two, of waiting, of asking, of being receptive and willing to be the conduit.
And then it comes. And throughout the day, I'm being run. I'm being pumped. Of ideas, of thoughts, of inspiration.
And when the lights go out, and the door is closed ( slightly ajar) and the husband is fed, but the bills aren't yet paid, and the clothes aren't yet washed, I know what to do. I close my door, I open that computer, and I get to work. Because some things can't wait.