longing


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 salvation.

I am longing for home. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

writing at JCup

I'm at Joshua Cup, the hipster-est place in Macon GA, a little coffee shop downtown with ceilings painted black and scratched wood floors. I'm drinking coffee black with cinnamon and I'm starting in on writing my SIP, a personal essay. But I don't really fit in. Two ladies in professional dress eat their organic lunches with big black sunglasses on their heads while three men use their laptops. The first is wearing a long grey robe of sorts with black dress shoes. Jewish maybe? I don't know, he's typing away on a word document. The other two look slightly disheveled. One with long, frizzy red hair and a black painter's cap has huge black headphones engulfing his ears; he's bent over his work on an ipad, shoulders kinked in. The other is wearing the gym clothes of a couch potato, baggy tshirt, baggy grey cotton shorts, and flipflops. They both sport facial hair. I sit somewhat apart with all the glory of a pink laptop, floral notebooks, two bags, and se...
Read more

transitions

My life since the last post has transitioned into a new season. No more camp or summer shorts, beat-up t-shirts, and head scarfs; no more beautiful seven years olds singing pop songs or coloring for hours. School has begun and I've had to move into a period of organization, arranging my stuff, my time, my attitude. I've set up my dorm room, creating places for clothes, books, posters, movies, old stained couches, and ripped chairs. I've had to place my days into slots, dividing it into my classes, meetings, meals, and homework. My thoughts are just beginning to transition back into this focused, detail-oriented perspective, where I have thousands of little things that I have to make happen, but need to intensely devote myself to one task at a time. When this school mode kicks in, it is easy to forget the world, forget time isn't naturally divided by classes, homework, and friends, forget that people breathe and rest, forget that there is more to life than finishing ever...
Read more

Everything into Enough

Failure sucks; here is a little hope that I'm struggling to hold on to, a bit of grace for a very weary sinner. It's from Today's Letters : "Here's to gratitude and how it turns everything into enough." Sometimes you need to stop thinking and just see good.  I am thankful  for sunshine after days of rain,  for rice and beans and corn, cheap and tasty with enough cheese and hot sauce,  for daily bread that breeds forgiveness,  for quiet evenings that offer a little respite from craziness,  for short tempers quickly resolved and selfishness overcome,  for being unseen on days where you feel unseeable,  for remembering that there is always hope, always grace. 
Read more