God sent us two new Heavenletters this morning. I wrote down the first one as I do every morning. For a minute or so, I thought I was done. And then a second Heavenletter announced itself and pushed its way in. And very welcome, it was, too.
Taking down dictation from God doesn't always feel the same. Some mornings Godwriting feels much more routine. I don't know what makes the difference, yet I know that what I happen to be feeling as I write down God's words is irrelevant. The Heavenletter that is most exciting to me as it's coming in may not be the most exciting or popular Heavenletter. A Heavenletter that might have seemed a little ho-hum in the writing may turn out to be one beloved by all -- I base this on your comments from the forum.
I don't know how or if this factors in, but it so happens that I had no idea what these two Heavenletters were saying.
On the recent radio show with Barbara Dixon, Barbara said it must be that I have a lot of trust to be able to Godwrite. I told her no, that it doesn't take trust to Godwrite. It really doesn't. You can be the biggest doubter in the world, and still you find yourself Godwriting. I would even go so far as to say that it's better not to be sure, for then you can be surprised. Surprise is good.
Now, if Barbara asked me today, I might say, "Barbara, you're right. It must take trust to write down what may be unintelligble."
But now, as I am writing this blog entry, I'm not so sure again. Does it take trust to Godwrite? Is it trust, or is it guts!!! Is it nerve? Is it moxie? Is it, perhaps, nothing more than starting something and then being determined to finish it!
Well, as the first Heavenletter was coming to the best part, Teeny, my daughter's cat, decided he wanted to come in. He was scratching at my screen door, and he was caterwauling that he wanted to come in that moment. Teeny does not take no for an answer. He climbed the screen. He went to the window and climbed the screen, and he incessantly meowed his displeasure louder and louder and without cease.
Perhaps you imagine I am a calm patient sort of person who never gets rattled. Perhaps you imagine that here I am receiving divine words from God, and here is one of God's creatures at the door. God tells us to love.
Perhaps you imagine that a Godwriter would nimbly get up and let Teeny in. Perhaps then, when Teeny started in on wanting to be fed that very minute, perhaps you imagine a Godwriter would serenely feed him and coo sweet words.
That's certainly how a Godwriter ought to be. Absolutely, that's how a Godwriter should be. A Godwriter would never be cross or grumpy or at her wit's end. No Godwriter would ever be less than perfect. No Godwriter would ever say or think: "Drat that cat."
The only thing I will confess is that now Teeny wants to go out.