Mountain-Top Experiences

On an early album, Amy Grant sang, “I’d like to live on a mountain-top, fellowshipping with the Lord…” I’m not sure you have to be Christian to see mountain-top experiences as peak ones, pinnacles, king-of-the-world moments.

And yet.

This morning, on day 3 of having nothing to do after months of frantic activity, my Bible reading was about Noah, and it was about the ark landing on Mount Ararat after five months of flood. And then staying there for another seven months or so while the waters receded. Just sitting there. In the ark. Watching the land re-emerge and dry up.

It’s weird. No paid work. My novel is off with an editor for edits. My other novels are under consideration with a publisher. My secret project is waiting for funders to get back to me. I’m not even knitting anything, for crying out loud.

I have an idea for a new novel, but it’s percolating. I have bits of wool. I have stain to redo the upstairs floors of our house. I have paid work on the horizon. But this week, it’s like watching land dry up. Or snow melt. (Although that happened while I slept last night.)

I’ve done everything I can think of to move my projects forward, to solicit new stuff, to make future plans. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’ve dusted. Here’s the thing: I have even exercised. That’s how empty it’s been.

But maybe, just maybe, when you’ve been through the flood, you actually can do nothing else other than sit and wait for the waters to recede.

What I want, what I crave, is just a normal pace of life, normal stuff, dum de dum.

What I suspect is that this emptiness is a weird kind of gift. I don’t want to miss it, even if it isn’t the gift I was hoping for.

No one in my life is in crisis anymore. After three solid months, it’s good. My grandma is cutting back her help as of today. Everyone is home from their big trips. People are mostly healthy. Exams are done. Drip drip drip.

It’s good.


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