A Moment or Two

I can't explain why I haven't written lately. I have been asleep for a week or two. It is the easiest way to cope with transitions, but not always the wisest. I have had half thoughts that I've lost behind closed eyes of too much sleep, and no real rest. What can I say?

And, yet, this weekend, as I roused a little weary, from my 100 year sleep, not from a kiss from a prince, but from a cut at the heart (which can sometimes be the same thing), I found myself aghast, a little startled. Like I woke up from sleep that I didn't realizing I was having until I woke up.

But, this heart cutting comes in ways I can't describe. It's come from off handed words, as well as, well thought out ones. It's come from cries in my own heart, as well as, gentle prodings from elsewhere. It has come like the raining. At moments, so hard, I think it might flood. And at others, gentle, lulling reminders of grace and forgiveness.

I find myself torn between joy and sadness. Between laughing and dancing and weeping and screaming someties too. And the fact of all that is that confession drips from my lips in a way I don't believe I fully understand.

I don't know how to explain this well. I've been wont. A little lazy. A little whorish, really. And the same question comes to my mind, that has for a while now. It was the same question Chelsey and I asked each other, in so many words, while I sat curled up in her papasan chair and we listed the things I needed and didn't need to take care of myself. How, in this culture of individualization and complete tolerance, do we embark on the part of community that requires accountability? That requires rebuke, at times? How do we live like that?

This has been all over the place. This has been a half-assed attempt to reach out a bit, to say, this is where I am at, but I am a little bit stuck in my own mud. This is me saying, even stuck in my mud, I am rejoicing still.

I am rejoicing still.

There are no words, sometimes

There are no words sometimes for the sadness inside us all. I don't mean this in some depressing, absurdist way, I just mean, sometimes we have to be sad. Sometimes we have to be sad becomes something awfully sad happens to us. Sometimes because something terribly sad happens to someone else, and sometimes, I think it's just a reminder that we are foreigners here.

Because, while there is something beautiful about being a sojourner, a nomad, there's something sad about never having a home, or always being on your way home. There's something sad about life here. It's like hearing a whisper of, "No one belongs here more than you." But, it's been carried for centuries to you. And even though the backs of the bees the carry this message believe just as much as the one who sent it, it's still a little sad. Because here, isn't here, it's there.

So, all that to say, I believe in grief. I believe it's a companion in life to remind us that this is right, and that's ok. Weep and rage about the wrongness of it all.

But, I also believe in hope and truth. And that they're great friends to grief when she seems close to drowing herself, they remind her of who she is, and why all of this isn't right.

And, I guess, that's all right. That it may not be the most comfortable way to live, but at least when we're quiet we can hear whipsers being sent in messages in bottles that will fight to make it to the sea shore, because the bottles need to know that they aren't floating aimlessly, but swimming with a purpose towards someone who is marked by love to tell them something simple and so profound.

No one belongs here more than you.

And even if here is there, I'll sojourn towards there until it's here.

Sadness

I'm sad.

I don't mean this in any earth shattering way. I don't mean it in a feel sorry for me way. I mean it simply in a, "I went to the grocery store after work" way. I feel like a rainy, cloudy day. In fact, this sunshine feels a little foreign to me.

Things are changing. It's a little bit terrifying. I feel small. I feel young. I feel uncertain. There's nothing like a bit of change to help you discover what's real in you, and what is just you being comfortable in your surrondings.

But, I don't mean to say that I am a sad person. Or a small, young, uncertain person. I mean that to say, as I try to lift up my heart from my knees, or toes each day, I find a resillence that is real. I find a strength that I forget I have.

And yet, I don't feel it.

So, what I'll do it this. I'll take my sadness, my uncertainity, my weariness, my sometimes double middle finger frustration, and I'll stick it in my haven't washed since Saturday hair. And I'll keep it there while it gives me good volume, and forget the fact that it's dirty and messy too. And when it's time, I'll wash it out. I'll find some rain, shampoo, and maybe even a prayer, and wash it right out.

But, until then, we'll settle in the fact of this dirt. This oddness. Because, it's not life. It's just life right now.