I’m sitting in my charging car, sipping on spicy soup, and preparing for therapy.
The library, my home branch where I normally work, is less than a mile away. And yet I’ve carved a little slice of serenity here.
In these moments, where processing leads to reflecting, I choose quiet. Truth comes from the listening, waiting.
Instead of hustling as I am wont to do, I sit and surrender, thank God for my prepared meal, and write. I’ll still carry on, and keep going, but not yet.
Truthfully, I struggled with transitions. Overbooked schedules bent boundaries I didn’t even know I had.
Now, I savor these in-between times. Where I can process, pray, and prepare for what’s ahead.