July smiled and approached and smothered all while she laughed.

            I blink and August is sitting right next to me. I have so much to tell her but I’m wondering where July went to. I want to say so many things. I spend all day and night drenched in words yet I can’t seem to sum up any for her. I’m a
writer with some kind of strange block and I’m not sure why.

            I see the scars of the month. And feel the light it’s left behind.

            Someday, maybe, possibly, I’ll have one of those moments. One of those AHA brilliant sort of bursts when I finally can see it in its proper place and light. But right now, I’m sitting on a hurling train racing toward tomorrow while forgetting about yesterday.

            I just want to linger in yesterday. Just for a moment.

            I just want to sum up what it means.

            I want to take the laughter and the tears and the words and the activity and bottle them into something special. Something that I can open on a late night many years from now. Vintage 2013. Named July.

            I seriously could feel and taste the dread before July arrived. But so often, life surprises me. God turns the head on my expectations and fears. He brings me safe souls that somehow like me. That linger around long enough to give me a
little more life. Long enough to inspire long after the embers of the fire are out.

            So August, what do you have planned? What do you have in mind?

            Maybe I shouldn’t ask.

            Maybe I should let it be. Let it lie.

            Maybe I should awake and see the morning sun and thank God for another day.

            For the breath and the lives around me and the home and the family and the love.

            Somewhere, somehow, in some way, I picked it up again. I found it amidst some kind of poison ivy. The compass. The call. This beautiful little thing called craft.

            I found it and gave it away.

            August, don’t let me let you down. Don’t let me take it back. Don’t let the waves start to waver all over my face and soul. Don’t make July regret meeting me. Don’t make September roll its eyes watching me from afar. Let these past thirty-one days count. Let this 42nd July count in the ways the others haven’t counted.

            Be the bell that reminds me whenever the door opens.

            Be the drum to announce your arrival whenever the memory comes.

            The tick tock tick tock that pounds in my skull silenced for a bit. And in its place, I found something glorious.

            God spoke through a bull frog. Of course He did.

            But the days go on and the nights are still there and it’ll be easy to go on and be so unaware. So July, remind me.

            Remind me in the gloomy October.

            Remind me in the busy December.

            Remind me in the cold February.

            Remind me in the colorful April.

            Remind me and keep reminding me.

            Remind me for my own sake and my own soul.

            Remind me of your far off sunsets and your fire tunnels.

            Keep reminding me whenever I need those reminders.

            Keep shining, July, and don’t ever stop.