Somedays, I wish this computer monitor of mine were more like the window that sits just behind it. Then, you could peak in every now and again and see that I am still here. I sit down in front of these two windows nearly every day, and about every third day, I begin to write a blog entry in my head. But somehow it never gets beyond a thought, and the blinds close, and the window becomes opaque once again. You don’t realize that I’m still here.

And sometimes, the same thing happens when I visit some of your blogs. I read your thoughts and marvel, and begin to formulate great replies, but then the words don’t make it to the keyboard. That’s when I wish your monitor were a window, too. And I could tap on the glass with my nail-bitten finger and wave when you looked up. I’m still here, looking in on you.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the metaphor of seasons. It’s a tired old metaphor, really. But as I’ve thought about the past few months and my season without words, I realized that it actually wasn’t a metaphor. My lack of words has corresponded almost exactly with the three months of summer. An actual season. I’ve beat myself up over it, cried about it a couple of times, tried to act like it didn’t matter that the writer in me felt a little dried up and shriveled.

Then I stopped to think about what I have been doing instead of writing, and I realized the time away from words may have actually been a gift. The past few months have afforded me hundreds of hours outside planting flowers, mowing grass, picking tomoatoes, and spreading mulch. My dog, Precious, and I have logged many laps around the park and the neighborhood, and my new bicycle has joined the 200 mile club (or at least qualifies if there were such an organization). I have laughed hard and cried hard. Some of my relationships with people have deepened to a new level, and others have drifted away.

It’s fall now, and I’ve been thinking in paragraphs again. A good sign that the words should be back soon. But in the meantime, these experiences have provided a hidden window that the words could not. As I looked through them, I saw the Lord and He has seen me.

Though painful, at times, and a bit unusual, it’s been a worthwhile season.

More thoughts on my Wordless Summer at my other blog.