Room on the Page

Sitting on the breezeway; curled up on the leather chair. Birds chirp outside; air conditioners hum and the woosh of an occassional car drives by the house.

It is a moment to be still--to obtain comfort from voices inside my house without needing to respond nor adhere to the meaning of their sounds.

My have to do list and my want to do list would cascade off even a legal sized page. But in this moment I choose to let those items all slide off. Instead, for a moment, I pretend the page is blank--completely white. And, I ask my God.
"What dear Lord, would you have me put upon that page?"


Why, I wonder, do I fill my page so that there is no room for my Lord to write?