God multiplied time for me.
As odd as that sounds, it is true. I invested hours of prep time into the speaking gig over the weekend. What's the rule? For every half an hour of talk time you should invest three hours of prep? Something crazy like that.
For weeks I've been sweating what I'd say. I had the verse right away -- Galatians 6:9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not faint. The reason I was sweating? Because I've been struggling with fainting myself. I've been a little spiritually light-headed of late.
Beyond the pivotal verse, "it" wasn't there, I couldn't get my hands around it, nor my mind, nor my heart for that matter. Eww. So aided with the adrenaline burst that comes with procrastination -- something I avoid at all costs -- the procrastination, not the adrenaline -- and a pathetic prayer, I forced myself to sit down and begin to gather my swirling thoughts.
And things just began to flow. As I typed, I grew more convinced that the jumble of words and ideas began to make sense.
Then came Friday with the sunshine and life-charged breeze. I ended with hours on my hands to relax and soak up peace before driving to deliver my words, His words, to a group of women who needed them as much as I did.
I began my Saturday morning with peace, and again Sunday, a jam-packed day with a family wedding shower that required games, devotional and food from me.
This should have been a stress-pumped weekend, but it was not. Instead it was a fresh breath from the God Who does not grow weary or sleep, the God Who is mindful of sparrows and aware of the number of hairs on my head.
Wow. Thanks, God. You are so faithful to this foolish, stubborn sheep. And thanks to those of you who prayed.