I see myself sitting…a window seat, a snowy afternoon and a hot cup of tea.  My Bible lies beside me, but my arms are too weak to pick it up, or perhaps I’m trying to find in the world outside what I’ve been taught is only found therein.  I sit all afternoon, chilly, but relentlessly watching the snow cover the ground, the people pass to and fro, and the light diminish beyond the horizon.  The dull afternoon turns into evening and eventually the nightfall creeps in.  I remain frozen; breathing…barely.  The only light in the room is that scented candle I lit hours before, burning on a nearby stand. 

How fitting…that the ambiance of that evening and thinking of the image I created, sitting in that sill, would mirror the heaviness in my Spirit.  Lost in thought, stagnant, and like a light barely flickering, cold and peering from the inside looking out – all day I sit dreaming of a world I wish I saw.  And now, as I put to paper the imagery of my heart I can’t help but wonder if this is really me and how long will I continue sit so still?