All the shades of gray.

I am in the valley.

And not the bad one where vultures are circling and dying to stab out my eyes with their…beaks?

Do vultures have beaks? I don’t know. I only went to private school for a million years.

But a valley no less.

I am grateful. I say it over and over again, and I know it too. It’s more than a feeling for me. It is me. Because for so long, I was the opposite of it. But right now is a low time. Not in a deeply negative way. Just in a “lull me to sleep and don’t set the alarm” kind of way.

Because here’s the thing: I’m a doer.

And I’m doing a lot of things. But I’m not doing “the” thing. And I’m starting to learn, my friends, that “the” thing doesn’t even exist.

As a perfectionist who wants to box myself in and do that one thing that will mean I’ve finally arrived (even if it’s being the best fitted sheet folder this side of the Mississippi-okay who am I kidding? That honor goes to my mother-or the best vulture knower-about-er in these here parts, I want to shine. And not even for myself anymore. Just to know I’m honoring God).

And that’s the kicker. Because in the small still moments, or in the sad, dark moments, those are the ones where I feel Him most.

The everything moments? The ones where I’m on top and killing it? I can’t even feel Him hovering.

So there’s a point to the slowness (even though, to be honest, my schedule is far from slow). I guess I mean there’s a meaning to the disconnectedness of it all. That black and white are sitting so close together, that I can swipe them both with my brush, only to see the gray.

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