I’ve started six drafts about the Letter Q and can’t seem to get my words to fit into something called a complete sentence. I’m well aware of the reason for this writer’s block. Not only have I been dealing with some weighty feelings about this or that, but I’m also living the lazy days of summer. When those weighty feelings emerge, instead of writing them out, I just want to be quiet. I’m too hot and tired to think out loud and for some reason, I feel like my own words would just mess up my train of thought right now. Does that make a lick of sense? Probably not. I told you it’s hot.
So, let’s move right past the Letter Q, which stands for questions. I’m thankful for a God who gives us understanding and insight, maybe not full and complete answers like we want, but provides a well that doesn’t run dry. He gives and gives and gives and gives. Amen.
The letter R is much easier to talk about. It involves reading an entire novel in 4 days (The Help by Kathryn Stockett), pulling off Interstate 40 in search of a Sonic, being artistic with pizza dough sitting at a restaurant next to my niece and nephew, and talking about The Housewives with my mom while eating m&m’s in the front seat of her new car.
The Letter R is for a road trip without kids.
Pictures to come.