Nicole feels

Sometimes it just seems so impossible to transfer what I am feeling into coherent thoughts, let alone words. It feels like fireflies in a jar, jutting against that invisible glass barrier. Effort, to no avail.

I can�t quite put my finger on the reason for my melancholy. I suppose it could be a myriad of things�

Rob�s away, again.
It�s gray and windy, like the blustery day of Winnie the Pooh fame.
I have a touch of a cold, or flu, or something, that has me feeling weary and achy.

If I am honest with myself, though, it really stems from my own uncertainty, and yes, impatience, over where God is, and will, lead us next.

My dreams were peppered with it. Still shot images of hopes dashed concerning our future here. Fears in Technicolor.

�Hurry up and wait.� We finally make a decision about where we think our future may be � at least a broad definition of the �what� � and, and...

Silence.

If I listen close enough I can hear that still, small voice, yet again...

Be still and know that I am God.

Why is that so hard to remember in the waiting times?