It's only a tiny Sunbeam by Eunice Matchett

It’s mid September and the walls in my house feel as if they’ve come alive and are closing in on me. I stare through my living room window at the snow clinging to a gigantic, sodden and rotting leaf pile beneath a tree. Planters that were filled with colorful blossoms two weeks ago are nothing but stage props for a mini horror movie. The sky is covered with layers of dark gray clouds. Dark gray clouds that threaten more snow. I walk away. Fall yard work this year might become spring clean up next year.

My restlessness makes it impossible to concentrate on anything, so I plop on my bed and reach for my book on the night table. As I do, brightness draws my attention to the window. A tiny sunbeam has poked through those moisture-laden clouds, promising the sun still exists. The ray’s tenacity starts me thinking.

It reminded me of all those times I’ve sat in front of my computer with my brain waves on a collision course with each other. I’d over-think every scene, delete more words than I typed. Watching a movie was so tempting, but I’m stubborn. I came in here to write and write I would. Minutes passed. I would eat a candy then drink some water, then eat more candy. Still, no useable thoughts would materialize. That movie became far more attractive, but my stubbornness is no sissy. It just needed some help. From above.

I would close my eyes and prayerfully allow my heart to reach beyond my hyper-active head, and God would meet me where I was. I didn’t always feel His presence immediately, sometimes it took what seems like forever. Just as that tiny sunbeam worked its way through banks and banks of clouds, my Heavenly Father made a path through my busy ramblings, allowing me to think again. Then, a minute thought, so small I have on occasion missed it,would push its way through all the activity in my head. As I thought on it, it grew, and slowly becomes the scene I needed to write.