Day 49
“Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there.” – Thomas Berger
One of the many things that is so enjoyable about language is its infinite possibility. The combination of words and thoughts we can create is staggeringly vast. Each day we utter sentences that have never been uttered before.
The fluorescent green-striped and pink polka-dotted mollycoddle of a collie marched his way to Mars, skipped over Saturn, and tumbled head over tail back to Earth, where he landed in a swimming pool inhabited by shiny black opossums who bore a strange resemblance to Davy Crockett.
I can 100% guarantee you that that crazy, rather nonsensical sentence has never been written before in the history of mankind. I wrote it because it wasn’t there. Ever. But now it is.
Write a brand-new sentence yourself and feel free to post your creative writings in the comments section. I’m sure I’ll get a kick out of them.
Onward.
I couldn’t sleep this morning early – I wasn’t fully awake, but I was having some vague uneasiness about the impending day, so I got up and turned on some lights and opened my Bible. I read the first 4 chapters or so of Ephesians before sleep started to reclaim my brain. I find it amazing how the Word of God can slice through even my grogginess and comfort and renew my mind.
Some things I was reminded of in the pre-dawn:
I have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies in Christ.
I was dead in trespasses and sins, but God (two of the most beautiful words in the entire Bible) who is rich in mercy made me alive by his grace.
He is my peace.
And I can know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge.
Made for Eternity 
The very next day Mr. Collie had a gig in Carnegie Hall so he dialed up his pilot, Davy Crockett, and lumbered onto his private jet. After donning his favorite pin-striped suit he proceeded to dazzle the audience with his pugilistic piano skills.
Meanwhile in Mahattan the crimson sunset lingered over the panicked pedestrians except one pulchritudinous female eating anchovies in a side alley and plotting her next musical imitation of Palestrina in Monrovia.