When I started this blog, I made a promise to myself. A vow, actually.
I vowed that if I had nothing to say, that is what I would say:
Whether due to crazy schedule or writer’s block or heart strain.
Whether my wonderings have been flat or my ponderings have yielded only dust.
I vowed not to drudge up insights or wordsmith ideas.
The fallow season feels like floundering. It feels like nothing.
But, in truth, it is waiting. For something.