In the launching of Living InWords I have tried to be very attentive to the prompting of the Holy Spirit in what to write and to write it on His schedule.
Last night He clearly prompted me that this next week would be a week of rest and listening. “Lord,” I said. “I’ve only been at this for three weeks!” He answered, “It’s time to lean into Me.” And so I am.
Until He releases me to post here again, I believe He will give me insights to share with you @jamielinnbrummel on Facebook. Please pray for a time of revitalization for me as I wait on Him to give me a fresh word for you.
I leave you with this original piece, shared to my personal Facebook page last year. May it stir up cherished childhood memories buried deep in the recesses of your mind.
Have you ever felt as if the real you, the true you that can be traced back to your childhood is so close that you could touch her?
I often get this sense when I hear the dull, soothing hum of a twin-engine plane flying overhead. Or the steady rhythm of a train pushing behind tracks on its quest to Somewheresville.
When I feel Younger Me lurking nearby, I want to take her hand, step through the portal of time, and take good notes.
This morning I headed outside to play Frisbee® with Zay bundled in my usual winter uniform of long parka, boots, scarf, earmuffs, and gloves. You see, when you own a Belgian Malinois, fetch is not an occasional pastime but a scheduled activity like feeding, watering, and potty breaks.
The ground beneath my rubber-clad feet was unyielding, a result of the frosty night that had passed. But the air … the air was alive!
Yesterday’s 50-degree heat wave had released the sweet, herbaceous smell of grass from the thawing earth.
Golden rays of sun beamed through the trees in an effort to free the soil once again.
In the field a mourning dove repeated her sad story over and over. A cardinal and chickadee countered with a duet of hope.
Suddenly, my soul recognized the door through which my child-self awaited, enraptured by all the sensations of nature. No hurries or worries. Just being in the moment and cataloging the wonder of it all.
Suddenly, my soul recognized the door through which my child-self awaited, enraptured by all the sensations of nature. No hurries or worries. Just being in the moment and cataloging the wonder of it all.
Jamie Linn Brummel
I love that little girl. She knew the secret to the fullness of joy.
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