So Tom is away on a short, rare business trip and I'm here at home with unaccustomed weekday use of our car and Tom's company's laptop computer, even.

It's always quite nice at first, this being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. 

You know, getting out of bed in the mornings only when I choose, no nagging alarm blaring. Leaving as I wish, either in the car or walking until my stamina, not my schedule, calls me back . Choosing to eat homemade blueberry ice cream solely for lunch or having spaghetti delivered for dinner (or skipping it altogether and ignoring the dishes in the sink). Reading library books all afternoon then falling asleep at night in Tom's recliner with the t.v. remote (mine! all mine!) in my hot , tiny hand.

But that kind of living--for me, anyway--always becomes old, fast. Getting whatever we want, living for one's self? For most of us, it eventually loses flavor sooner than we fantasized. Our way. There's a deceptiveness about always getting one's way--it never leads quite to the Wonderland you imagined.

I prefer to wait for God to give me things. 

His gifts never make me sick of stuff or to my stomach. His presents are sweet and always come on time--His. He knows my desires and how many of them I can handle at once (and won't tire of 2 weeks from now).

Well, you know.

So I'll rest a little, then give something to others. Relax a bit, then work. I'll respect that ebb and flow, keep sowing good seeds and end each day with a happy tiredness and hands wide open for those special gifts from Heaven. The best ones, the ones which flutter down, always on the perfect day.

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An overdose of peace and quiet might just lead to a loneliness with loud echoes.


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