Taking a hiatus from writing for me is like making coffee, weird as that might sound.  When I set my mind to make coffee, I really have to commit to the process.  Odds are I am working with both a pot and filter that are not clean.  I take both to the sink for their suds and scrubbing, often finding that there is residue that others or even I may not have noted previously.  Clean and dry, I fill the pot with water and gently pour it into the machine.  I say “gently” as I find I am clumsy enough to spill some in my earnestness.  I pour in the coffee grinds.  I like my coffee quite bold, so usually a spoonful more than the average individual gets me yearning for that first sip.  I power up the maker and set my mind to other tasks.  It’s out of sight, out of mind.  All the while, though, it is percolating.  The water is bubbling through, piping hot.  It weaves its way through the crevices in the grounds and filter, carrying that magical goodness that the crushed beans contain to the pot below.  Finally, my mind alerts me that it’s time.  I pour it into my favorite Rabbit Room mug.  And as I drink it up, I simply can’t imagine why I wouldn’t have had it sooner.

While I love writing, I often don’t want to go through the simple tasks it takes to get the goodness that comes with it.  My mind needs cleaning and refreshing.  I have to take the time pouring the words on the page, lest I make a mess of it.  And there’s so much to do, which often puts writing out of sight, out of mind.  All the while, though, the ideas are percolating.  They are sifting through crevices and corners of my experiences to my head and heart, carrying magical goodness from God with them.

I write all this with a smile on my face and Brooke Fraser’s tunes in my ears – the pot is full.  It’s time to pour it into my mug, inhale the aroma, and enjoy its flavors anew.

Advertisements