White Birch

If today is not a White Birch kind of day, then I know nothing of what is.

It's music for a rainy day.
but when the rain is freezing.
so it's become snow.

Snow and Scales

I live in a little room. in a little house. in a little town.
Snow fell from the sky for the second time since moving here four months ago. This time successfully creating a white blanket, a clean canvas to paint some thoughts over.

I am.
nobody's wife. nor girl... and that is okay. And one day, it will even be good.
I am.
wrestling with what is important

.Some things that aren't making the list:
- what I wear, or, how I look
- school and degrees//Money
- Happiness and Easiness and Comfort
- Anything past this day, this moment.
- Deadlines, Dates, Rushing

I keep changing. Where I live and who I know keeps changing. What I believe and how I act upon it keeps changing. My emotions keeps changing.

Change keeps your spirit from drying up. Change keeps you growing, Keeps pushing you into uncomfortable shapes so that you learn and become a further prepared instrument.

If I am The Lord's instrument, what do I sound like? Am I a brass, string, woodwind, percussion? Brought to His lips or held in a firm grip? Soft and melodic? Deep and earthy?

At any rate, I am valuable because I am one of them, and my scales are uniquely known.
and my scales are uniquely known.