Starting a Story
An Editor's Eye, a Child's Effort
This morning, portions of story run over me helter-skelter, diving through my mind and appearing as glimpses of one image, then another.
Abram on his knees or perhaps standing on two feet or maybe tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable spot on the mat in his tent in the dark of night when he receives the call that says go. Not where, just go.
Sarai surrounded by finery in the house of the king of Egypt, slaves at her beck and call, yet never feeling further from the promise she heard spoken from the lips of her husband. Is this what his god meant by blessing?
Sentences and questions, assumptions and clarifications, things I’ve heard and seen, things I wonder. The more I think about it, the more overwhelmed I feel.
Gathering broken pieces from a sandy beach and making something beautiful.
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