everyday is a journey.
I cannot say,
Beneath the pressure of life's cares to-day,
I joy in these;
But I can say
That I had rather walk this rugged way,
If Him it please.
S. G. BROWNING
I remember getting up very early in the morning before the sunrise and I would just write. Just spend the next couple of hours writing as the apartment building sat silent. Oh, those were the days. Why can't I do that now?
Since then, I think I'm at least two years older and another treatment gone by. It certainly has taken it's toll on me. I am still recovering from my "bug" from the weekend. I don't have the same stamina that I once had. It seems I was more disciplined and efficient in everything. I didn't run back and forth to the stores or for errands throughout the week. I had a schedule that I followed.
The reason for it I think is that we lived farther away from these things. Here we are ten minutes from work and stores all around us. We can go anytime. When something is farther away, we tend to make it count when we go there.
Honestly, I don't feel like I can write here as I did back in the old place. There is no scenery here to look at with the windows being higher up and not really at desk level. Emily jokes that perhaps God is making sure I mind my own business. There is truth in that.
Besides all that, there is a restlessness in me. Things haven't been right or seem right. I don't care for uncertainty or the not knowing of how things will turn out. I long for something different. There is a road that I'm on now that isn't comfortable nor easy, but it's one I need to go on.