plucking open hearts and ears

...It is a lovely spring night. Lovely in every sense of the word. I am sitting on our back deck with a blanket over my legs and my computer in my lap, working on homework. The sky is deep blue above me, pine trees tower around, dusk has fallen, the air is warm and a breeze is blowing.

I am wrestling with theology questions so many more seconds of every day than I want to be, yet not my own doubts or frustrations, failings or anger can pluck me from His hand. I know people who inspire me. I have real friendships. And the possibility of a job that might feel purposeful (though I wrote in my journal over and over last year that I would be willing "to not feel purposeful if that's where You call me, Lord"...). I am not scared of graduation. I am excited for the summer.

I am excited about the possibility of Portland down the road, for my prayers and hopes of parenting those who need it in any way. I am thankful for words in a leather-bound book I can keep reading every day whether or not it makes sense in a given moment. I am grateful for any moment of self-sacrifice on my own part or those of others, for what taste of the Kingdom it is when we can love each other, even for a second. For the call to love the person in front of me, and for any chance to get to do that every once in awhile, when the list is so long of those I am failing. I'm grateful I can connect with those scared of being in a new place with an unfamiliar language and no support in a way I couldn't a year ago. I miss speaking Spanish every day. I miss Bolivia. I'm so glad I was there. I'm so glad I'm back.

I'm thankful for people who love me and accept me. I'm grateful for the laughter of those I know and love. For real hugs, casual touch, meaningful touch, human touch. For people meeting each other where they are. For seeing those around me use their gifts, hear the Lord, find joy and love, walk through struggles. For going for my ridiculously short runs that shock of all shocks are becoming consistent, that despite the ridiculous-shortness somehow make me feel more healthy and connected to the earth and joyful in the movement of my own body and (there it is again! interesting...) purposeful. For flowering trees. For my roommate. For classes held outside. Did I mention that leather bound book that somehow still has the same words between its pages that it always has, no matter where my heart is when I open it? I'm grateful for the Weepies. And Joshua Radin. And the Beatles.

I'm 21 and I like my body and the future is open before me and I love the people I know. My cell phone rings with the names and voices of people who inspire me and Ephesians 1 still reads the same as it always has and Deb Talan's voice and melodies and lyrics are beautiful.

Stream of consciousness.

It is a lovely spring night. Lovely in every sense of the word. I am sitting on our back deck with a blanket over my legs and my computer in my lap, working on homework. The sky is deep blue above me, pine trees tower around, dusk has fallen, the air is warm and a breeze is blowing.