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.