Honey From The Rock

I am weary of being here. And I know that I am actually saying I am weary of my sin and of my life being hard and getting up early in the morning. But there are moments, and sometimes days, when I crave something different. Slower and fuller. Maybe idealized perfect. But still, not this crazy chaotic immobilizing apathetic strange place. I want pine trees and hardwoods. I want snow. I want a little more time to read and to sleep. I want to bake. I want to write. I want to go for walks in the evenings and the mornings. I want to know when the sunsets are beautiful and I want to hear birds crying and calling and singing. I want to be on a lake and I want to smell the mud. I want to be home. The echoes of home here are good coffee. Laughing roommates. This big blue soft blanket. The window, poorly insulated and letting in drafts of coldcold air, by my bed that lets me see the fog weaving through wet tree trunks. The Old Testament prophets speaking hard condemnation and sweet salva...

Gratefulness leads to thankfulness that burgeons into praise. Father God, Thank you, for cookie dough. for tea. for roommates when we scream out laughter until the tears come. for learning hardhardhard things even though I don't actually want to. for Your love that never fails, never gives up, never runs out on me. You are always enough. To embrace this means not to give up hope, it means to hold on. Amen. My Lord is faithful. Praise the Lord.

The sweetest music for today, believeyoume. Perfect for this gloomy Saturday afternoon in a coffeeshop with navy blue plaster and brick walls.