I read this quote from Jesus Calling this morning: “Living in My presence means living in two realms simultaneously: the visible world and unseen, eternal reality. I have equipped you to stay conscious of Me while walking along dusty, earthbound paths.”

So far, today has been decidedly dusty.

More accurately, I should write that I am dusty today. It’s a “free” day for me, which in actuality means it’s anything but. It means that I return from taking the kids to school and stare at the hundreds of things that need to be done in my house (both general maintenance/cleaning and the still-moving-in tasks that never were accomplished during this crazy summer—seriously, I still have pictures leaning against the walls of the living room and boxes of stuff in the garage). I have no appointments and no writing deadlines that are due TODAY and, and the fact that I had a big deadline yesterday means that I have left even more things undone (because I would ALWAYS rather write than do housework, no matter how tedious the writing task is).

So today my brain is frazzled. I flit: clean the half bath, fill the soap dispenser, think, “would the sheer curtains make the front room less gloomy feeling?” I try them. Nope, they don’t even fit on the rods—and I like the rods. I get suddenly depressed about decorating my house. I just want it done—and that reminds me of the 8^th grade teacher I taught with years ago who drilled her students so diligently on the difference between “done” and “finished” (chicken is “done,” tasks are “finished) that when her students came to my classroom they corrected me.

Em and I had a bit of a grumpy morning, so thoughts about that are also swirling. I’m tossing around the pros and cons of taking on a longer-term writing job possibility. Bits of prayer surface. “Lord, I am so unequal to any of these tasks. I’m not even sure what to do today, much less tomorrow or long term.” But praying and listening get swallowed up.

I am not just dust-y. I AM dust, floating, mis-directed by any small puff of air. I imagine Satan blowing me this way and that, aided by my own un-captured thoughts.

The dog begins following me around, reminding me with soulful eyes that I promised her a trip to the dog park where I have planned to have some quiet time and Bible study.

I put her off for awhile, find more tasks to do, more distractions. Finally, though, the look becomes pitiful, and I succumb, as much to the Holy Spirit as to the dog.

So here I am, sitting, letting it all out, hopefully silencing the talk in my own head and listening, be-ing.

I’ve got to walk in the dust, scuff my feet in it even, but I don’t have to BE it.