A time for every purpose under heaven

There has been a lot going on in the lives of my friends and family lately. It's been keeping me moving. Yesterday seemed like it was running on some kind of perfect timing that I don't usually create in my life. I was just in time for several people and it was good to be able to help.

I got some items printed for Mom and friends that I had been struggling with. They were finally done and I was just finishing up when my nice neighbor lady dropped in. We had coffee and talked a while. She and her man had been on a cruise. She looked rested and happy. It was fun to visit with her. She headed home.

I got around to leave and picked up something from the Sis to take to a friend who needed it. She ran it out to the hard top for me so I didn't have to try her road. My uncle was there with her. I didn't stay to visit with them but ran on my way. I dropped in to the jam session for a bit, got a lift from the music and companionship and then left to finish my errand.

I got there just in time to be useful. I hung with them until it seemed they were all settled in and ok with family to cover them. I left there to meet the Rotten Kid in the next town south and arrived early enough to grab another cup of coffee and breathe a minute. When he showed up the news was better this week and it looks like there might be light at the end of the tunnel. He finally got a job. I was so glad for him.

We had a pretty good talk and then I headed back to the house. I let the animals in and fed them and settled down for the night. I thought about going out but I just didn't seem to feel like it. I dug out an old book to read of sci fi shorts. It was, what I call, lurking for me. I was just "reading for pleasure", but found a thought in it.

I read a story about a man who agreed to write a book for the money, not for the love of writing. He felt it was a mistake to do it that way but he did it anyway. Man got to the planets because of that book, in the story.

He wasn't a man of action, he was a writer. He contemplates - "Yet people of my sort had their uses. Maybe they didn't always originate the ideas; maybe they didn't always believe in them. But they kept them alive by circulation, until at last the seeds took root...........

We make a pattern better than we know. Keep on with it. "

I thought my writing friends might like to think about that. I did. These little blogs we write carry tiny capsuals of history. They may have just one line each that will speak to another heart someday and comfort it as that person finds out that someone else felt the way they do.

What seeds we leave in out little lives and writings will grow beyond our knowing. We make a bigger pattern than the small part of life we see, it goes into a future beyond us.

Keep on with it. I'm reading.