I'd always been on my way somewhere. Things were going to be great when. Things would finally be okay if. All I had to do was this one thing. Invest in my future. Plan for the future. But what about now? What about this moment?~From How To Be Loved, A Memoir Of Lifesaving Friendship, by Eva Hagberg Fisher 

I stood on the banks of the tidal creek. The breeze was still cool; the intense heat hadn't invaded the morning. A hawk sat atop an oak branch, fish jumped, their silver scales reflecting the sunlight. A pelican swooped through the sky. So much life. The bustling atmosphere brought me comfort as I considered my own existence and circumstances.

I am prone to forging ahead, having a plan, making lists, weighing pros and cons. I felt exhausted by my efforts to control, predict and measure. I only wanted to stand on the creek bank and deeply breathe in the tang of mud and salt. To give myself permission to pause, like the hawk who kept me company in his contemplation.

Over the years, I've appreciated stationery that contains watermarks--those subtle traces of elegance that create another level of beauty and mystery for letter writing. The morning seemed to reflect a watermark of its own. There were many descriptors running through my mind to define the impressions--abundance, solitude, stillness, comfort. The word that materialized to identify this metaphorical imprint was mercy. God's mercy new every morning. His distinctive, decorous touch for my day. All my days. Tender in His ways to suggest a pause. Kind to provide such companionable creatures to share my experience. I'd wait awhile before I headed back, bearing in mind His faithfulness and compassion. My portion.

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him." (Lamentations 3: 22-24, NIV)