These days I’m asking myself what I want to be when I grow up and then have no clue. I resort to asking, “Where am I?” And of course, soon, Father reminds me that it’s always simple… I AM.

That statement seems to open a door in my mind which sets my spirit to painting. It paints on my “imagination” canvas like a Tasmanian devil. First one scene, then another, and another. They flip by so fast! And I can grasp any one of these fleeting images out of the air as they flit by. The choice is mine. Any one of them. Or more. Choose.

I’m also knowing whatever I choose can be simply played with and tossed aside for another. It may be the impetus that leads me to the next. Or even the next.

Like a child playing freely. It reminds me of standing in my backyard as a child wondering, “What do I want to play?” while ideas paint across my imagination. Eventually, I picked one. And that’s what I did that afternoon. I played.

This is my time to play, again.

The hard part of getting here was that moment a few days ago when I heard Father say, “You need to let go of Hunny, now.” And everything in me replied, “no, no, I can’t do that, no, I don’t want to do that.” But as I eventually grew quiet, I heard Hunny. So softly talking to me with his quiet understanding. “It’s not for me. I’ll never leave you. But for you. Just think about this. If you stopped focusing on me as much as you have been, you’d go back to being who you were before I stepped away. It would be better for you. You’d be more confident again. And creative.”

Oh, oh, I don’t know. I…I mean…oh, my it feels something like a fear that if I let go…then I’ll …forget? No, no, that can’t be true. I’ll never forget. How could I? We did things, he said things, and it was a whole amazing, miraculous life. I’ll never forget. Never.

So, can I begin to let go of this side of mourning? The nearly constant thoughts? And especially, the consciousness of his presence?

Then I remembered when I wrote my books. And every time I wrote an article for this blog. He was here in the house with me, but he wasn’t in my thoughts for the hours and the days. I had to pull away from writing and say it was enough for the day. Then go spend time with him.

This is like that. Letting go of his hand…for just a bit. Knowing he’s right here as quick as a thought.

So, I’m picking pictures. I’m dreaming. It feels good to do this again. I even went to bed last night so excited I didn’t sleep for a couple of hours.

I can hear him (Father/Hunny). “You can do this.”

Ahh, it’s so good to have someone believe.

Faith