My room is a mess. My overflowing suitcases lazily rest on the floor where I dumped them after a 16 hour journey, a bed of rumpled blankets boast the 12 hour nap that directly followed my arrival, each thoughtful gift I received over Christmas lays half-pondered on the ground where I have very good intentions about fully pondering it, a strange collection of mail that should’ve been shoved in one of those convenient blue boxes is still clinging to the insides of my suitcase,
and I am sitting here, drinking jasmine green tea and typing.
I’m returning to community and family. I’m returning to the admission that we need people.
My best friend Meghan asked me to be her maid-of-honor. Our eyes filled up a little bit, but life is mostly the same between us – we share the kind of understood love that doesn’t necessarily send emails or letters or phone calls, but it prays and hopes and is still so fierce.
I’m returning to the joy of the heart friends I only see once-in-awhile. I’m returning to believing I can love them without a face-to-face coffee date.
I snuggled into two books before I jumped on a big Continental bird to fly back here. One I have nearly finished after two days: Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner. Winner’s writing style reminds me why I love getting lost in between black and white typed words. I heard her speak when I was in college, but my too-skeptic college self didn’t allow me to believe her story was good. Well, it is. The other book is Forgotten God by Francis Chan and it is proving just as delightful … my heart is necessarily challenged at each page-turn.
I’m returning to believing things are good and worthy of hours of thinking and digesting and several cups of jasmine green tea.
I bought a new journal at Target in Michigan. The store startled me with all the bright reds and discounted prices, but I managed to find a $3.24 eco-friendly journal with wide pages and a wire binding (very important, as I like to flip each page completely behind).
I’m returning to writing with a pen. I’m returning to saying my prayer with bold strokes. I’m returning to a personal account of fears and failures.
My sister Christina’s birthday is today. I only left the states a couple days ago, but memories always make me feel uncomfortable with my love. My sister isn’t really one for precious, picture moments with fluffy words and embraces. She is the queen of conversation and wild with wit… but sometimes I just have to know that she can feel my love without words or corny phrases. I know it, I do and I’m whispering happy birthdays today for her.
I’m returning to confidence in how people understand my love. I’m returning to believing that my sister doesn’t need to be persuaded – she just knows how much I love her even when my hands are empty.
My friend Chels is my new mentor (she doesn’t know that yet). I turned my head slightly after college to pursue what I thought important. It was easy, as we all went separate ways …but a few years later here she emerges as this gentle well, deep with wisdom. I am sad to not have watched the process or been more supportive as she grew brilliantly toward the light of Love.
I’m returning to knowing I have much to learn. I am returning to humbly searching the deep, deep wells of the wise ones around me.