"God, make a fresh start in me, shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life."~Psalm 51:15

A rough week--thrown off the life carousel by the pretty painted pony. The merry-go-round rotations whirling too fast--a jangle of stress, the organ music no longer melodic, but sounding strident and dissonant.

I land with a thud--not feeling well physically, spiritually or psychologically.  An outbreak of acne. I am stumbling at work, feeling overwhelmed--too many tasks and not enough energy--insufficient depth to tackle the stack of expectations sitting before me--discouragement welling in my heart regarding the role I love most as writer artist.  No book sales since June.  And all that money spent to have some sort of platform online.  Too many other books.  A sea of books.  A mountain of books.

I rise from my cave, from this dysregulated fray.  I remember the authentic love of the Shepherd. "Don't stay here," He whispers. "Get up. Move.  Go."  

I drive on an Indian summer day, the sun so yellow, I can almost taste its warmth on my tongue.  I walk the shore line, the waves a gentle voice beckoning me to listen to truth.  "You are loved."  "You matter."  "All is well inside my presence." The gulls huddle together and don't fly away when I pass.  They aren't afraid.  I remember that even they are assured of God's care and protection. The salty spray hits my face.  "Let me remember too, God.  Let me remember too."

I find treasure in the lavender and ochre whorls as sand-covered fingers hide seashells in my pocket.  The outline of a delicate moon rests in the sky--like white oragami. I gaze at the ocean for a good hour--that cobalt thread wavering across the horizon, shaping a Genesis day out of my chaos.