when that feeling inside you just doesn’t want to be named

O Lord, open the eyes of my heart,

the eyes of my hands, 

the eyes of my mouth,

the eyes of my feet.

I love to live all eye.

~Ann Voskamp, 

"one thousand gifts: 

a dare to live fully right where you are"

 +   +   +

Everything around me gives the impression that autumn has arrived, but it certainly doesn’t feel like fall, not when it's 81 degrees!

Like a child waiting for her birthday, I search for signs in nature that will point me towards the next season.  And today I find myself wondering why.

With teachers in my life for as long as I’ve been alive, my internal and external clocks have both always run on “school year” mode.  And we are, indeed, about one quarter into the school year—or over halfway done with the semester.

But that’s not all of it.

I’m trying to find words for that feeling inside me, but it seems it doesn’t want to be named. It’s not anxiety. And it’s not apprehension. It’s not even anticipation, although that does come close to naming it.

It’s time for a shift. It’s time for a change. It’s time to look up and discover what’s new in the path opening up before me.  But more than that, it's a longing to pry open my heart to God, to His blessings in the present, each present. 

I want to BE present. To live present.

And in the meantime, my fable of the animals continues.  [If you don’t get this reference, see my post from last week!] This time it's that my sweet Mami has been in the hospital all week… would you say a prayer for her right now? Her name is María de Jesús.

May YOU live present today. Right now!