|Thanks to Alex J Cavanaugh for hosting the IWSG!|
Elijah tells her to go home, bring him a drink and make him bread with what is left. If she obeys, her flour and oil will never run out. She does as she's told, and indeed, her flour and oil are forever replenished. A happy ending.
Now, there are so many ways I'd like to run with this story; my internal commentary is running amok with thoughts. But I'll try to stick to the point (and I do have one).
Sometimes I feel like that widow lady, only my jars aren't running low with oil and flour--they are running low on words and ideas. And yet, another blog entry is due, another story needs to be told, a post must be written and an article looms with its yawning deadline. I panic. I've run out of ideas. I can't put the words together. I'm depleted.
And then there is that moment as I'm writing, ideas like yeast giving my words form, I'm amazed. Somehow the article is completed (some better than others). The deadline ceases to be a mocking beast. I find enough words to finally form a couple of sentences that miraculously (like the widow's flour and oil) emerge into a baked and completed post. It's a miracle!
Like the widow, I'm not foolish enough to believe I alone am responsible for another idea or am the source of words that somehow manage to be typed. I'm just a vessel, like the jars. It's why even when my own insecurity threatens to convince me I will die of creative starvation, I can be confident there will be just enough for one more page.