Friday, April 17

reach out and hitch a ride and float on by

there's a sort of anticipatory shake all through my limbs as if i've been pushing up against a brick wall for a long time.

i have a bad habit of procrastinating on things, and i'm still unpacking some things in the place i've lived for months. i feel like this might have to do with an unease about getting too comfortable in one place. (maybe packing and hanging my art, maybe that will jinx it and i'll just have to pack up and leave again. disheartening to say the least!) well i've been going through some boxes recently and found an old journal of mine where i wrote down little prayers and notes from sermons on sunday. in some ways, i miss that girl:

"this book is mine. no one elses. You are a jealous lover and i love you like none other. who is like you, Lord? who else made the snow on the trees? who painted wildflowers so delicately? i want to read your Word. i want to swallow You whole or vice versa. only make me contented, You well-spring of Joy."

in a lot of ways, however, i think that girl seems too familiar. i know that i've changed in many ways, but it's remarkable how similar the things are that we both dealt with. our problems may have different faces, but are essentially the same. we both long for love in this world and struggle for contentment with the Love offered to us, and fear that we may give too much of ourselves to earn other people's affections. even as i type this, though, i can see how much i've grown and i'm encouraged. i miss the bravery and boldness i used to have, but i can see a new strength- an inward ember. i just need Breath and Breath and Breath to make it grow.

i have high hopes for the future. i have high hopes for pies and sun and denim cut-offs and bike rides down deserted roads.

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