I've been writing a lot.  Mostly a whole bunch of nothing, but it helps.

There's something nice about pencil on paper.

It makes me feel instantly better.

I thought of two things this week, two golden thoughts that I want to remember.

The first one hit me deep in my soul during Sunday Service.  This world is not as big as my world.  And as soon as I grasped that, a load rolled off my shoulders.  And I smiled.

The second is this.  I wish there was church everyday.  I feel the good when I'm sitting there.  And for as much as I cringe at the corny songs and badly played instruments, it all adds to my feeling of being safe and whole.

I don't always feel that way about church.  Some mornings it's a battle to make myself walk through the door.  But it almost always ends pleasantly.  And when it doesn't, it's usually because He's nudging some of the wrong out of me.

This last week, I've felt silent.  Like the words were swept right out of me.  And all that was left was a raw tangle of dreams and despairs.

What am I to do, God?

I had someone ask me when the last time was that I made a decision based on me and what I want.  And besides ordering the food I like at restaurants and going to bed when I want to, I still don't have an answer.

Am I supposed to?

That feels a little... trivial.

I was talking with my mom.  I told her.
Mom, I am so ready to be submissive.  I'm dying to submit.  So where is he?

She almost choked, she laughed so hard. 
Well that's something Tasha.  Something very big for you.

I know.  And part of me hates it.  Part of me wants to go on the way I was.  Happily, blissfully, decidedly, alone.

I can rationalize it.

I can rationalize it well.

I'ts because I'm getting those phone calls.  The baby ones.  And the five year anniversary, second honeymoon ones.  The ones about buying land and kitchen sets and cans of paint.  It's because it has rained two weeks straight and the rain has made its way into my weepy soul.  It's because I had to say goodbye to my sister when all I wanted to do was get on the plane with her.

I'm watching people progress and it's leaving me feeling stuck. 

I know I'm not.  Not really.  I've moved forward in other areas.  And I really like my last name.  But.

It's more than that.

I'm not sure I can handle another year in this town alone.  I'm afraid it will swallow me up and I'll still be here in thirty years.  Only I'll have gray hair and ten cats and tie dyed clothes.

A few years ago I would have told you that I planned on being the old maid from the card deck.

That was a few years ago and it's been slowly changing.  It started when I decided that it sounded kind of nice.  Having someone to open the door to.  Someone to help decorate a Christmas tree and fight over the bathroom with.

But I knew I still wasn't ready, as good as it all sounded.

Well, my freedom is boring now.  My indpendence is annoying.  And I can't make another decision to save my life.  I'd stand on my head in the middle of the busiest sidewalk if only someone would tell me what to do.

I've been clinging to Psalms.  Psalms and Exodus.  God's movement is so blatantly obvious in Exodus.  I love how loud He is.  He's booming from a bush, upsetting the Egyptian world, parting waters.  And in Psalms the very earth seems to wait on Him.

When I read them, peace steals over me.  Because wherever I go, He is.  And I want more than anything to be with Him.  Especially when I am feeling so solitary.