Why is it my most profound thoughts come to me just as I start to fall asleep? While I drift off to slumber these inspiring ideas drift off someplace else. Maybe they travel to the place where socks lost in the dryer and teaspoons that disappear in the dishwasher go to nest.
Why is it my most provocative writing ideas come when all I have at hand are a leaky pen and a mere scrap of paper? Either the words are too smeared to decipher later or the scraps wind up tossed in the trash.
Maybe it's because these ideas were not as profound as I thought. Or maybe they were too profound; maybe they would cause me to be too proud. Losing these thoughts is God's way of keeping me humble; reining in my ego and keeping my reliance on Him closely tethered.
Whatever His reasons, I trust that the words that do survive carry on for a reason; reasons to which I'm not always privy. Maybe they'll encourage someone. Maybe they'll make someone laugh (With me not AT me, please). Maybe the reason is as simple as keeping my head from exploding from the buildup of too many ideas.