one week.

i have about a week left before i turn in two manuscripts. i hadn't realized how much i had to say, how long i'd been wanting to say it, how meaningful this message is to me. i'm still enamoured of it.

my sister says her oral hygenist, whom she mentioned my book to, wants to read it.

i laugh because, i keep hearing that. very few have seen the actual pages, but there are a few, and i keep hearing this chorus,

where's the rest of eve?

they want to see more. which is a blessing. i pray the words come out someday, and that they arrive with the Spirit of the living God on them, in them. that they are more than just letters and symbols. but that i actually have, as my life motto professes, caught the breath of God on the page. such heights i aspire to.

i've not really got time to blog, and less so next week, so forgive me if i miss a few days, but knowing me, i'll try to come up with something to say.

my girl enjoyed the piece about her spinning out of orbit. she just drew a picture of it. whenever i find a picture on the floor, i can usually tell exactly what her state of mind is. perhaps i'll have to scan some and show you how she uses stick figures in most cases, to convey the state of her soul.

from when she was a tiny girl, she's been drawing. once we watched a godzilla movie and she drew the oriental lady singing to godzilla, i think she was about two or three then, she drew music notes coming out of the lady's mouth to indicate song.

the child can get concepts on paper, that is for sure.

so she hands me this tiny piece of paper with her world careening out of orbit, drawn on a scrap no bigger than a raffle ticket stub (the tiny ones). the signs she says, (because i wrote in a piece, the signs are there anyone can see she's falling--wait, that was from a piece she hasn't heard, so i'll have to go look back and see where she got my words from. she must hear words the way i do, by being silent and listening)

are a broken heart, a hammer for anger, a friend, and a tear drop. these are the signs that her world is careening out of bounds.

good thing, my arms can hold her in.

better teach her, when mine fail, His never do.

she asked me the other night,

mom, what's shadow?

darkness. sometimes we fall into darkness, and get sad.

i hadn't meant to explain all this to her yet, but well, the sooner the better i guess.

peace.