I’m all about endings. You might say as a writer, I live for The End.
I do that as a woman of faith, too — Live for the End.
But I don’t live for The End in any negative sense. I’m not one of those pie-in-the-sky gals. If I want pie, I have me some, though to be honest, I’d much rather have a slice of caramel cake. I don’t believe in putting off the delights of today. As far as I can gather, God expected us to enjoy this world. Why else would he make it so wonderful? Why else would he declare it was good, indeed, very good?
Anybody who can’t find beauty in this world ain’t likely to find it in the next one either.
I don’t know when The End is coming. Writers rarely do, but we don’t worry about it. We just go about the day stringing words together, doing loads of laundry, reading, fixing chicken salad, praying, filling the bird feeder, observing, pondering, and going back to rewrite that sentence we wrote earlier.
I been asking myself lately what would I do differently if I knew for sure the world was coming to an end on Saturday, and try as I might, I can’t think of a thing.
I look outside these French doors at the morning sunshine, at the flowering trees, at the birds flitting by, at the dads pushing strollers in the nearby park and I think how blessed I am to live in this world that God created.
It’s good God.
Thank you for providing me with such a glorious landscape in which to live out my story. I look forward to swapping tales with you one day.
In the meantime, I’m going on a hike in Sisters today to soak up a bit more of your creation.