I am writing this because...

I do not want to read about morphology. 
Or do the problems at the end of the chapter.
And I am stuck in the middle of my essay.
It is missing something.

I might over study.  But I still have my procrastinating reputation to maintain.  It's a fine balance between over committed and slacking.  But I do it well.

It's how I do life, really.

I do not recommend it.

This week was full and I forgot to make time for my heart.  So Saturday night I got home and I walked into my closet.  Dug out my fleeces and scarves and hat, grabbed my grandmother's quilt and a pillow.  I went downstairs and out the door and pulled the picnic table out into the middle of the patio.

My parents live outside the city where there are no lights, no city traffic, no noises.  I wrapped up on top of the table and laid down.  I watched the stars and did nothing else.  It was the closest to heaven that I knew how to get.

Last night I could feel myself snapping on the inside.  I called my mom from the walking bridge, I needed to see dark water and I needed to hear her voice.  She is my anchor when I want to sit down and stop.

I don't think this a healthy way to react to life, mom.  Every time I hear another story, every time I see someone else quit, the battle just seems enormous.  Too big.  It all seems impossible.  And these people here, everywhere.  They just need to be loved.  To be listened to and comforted and I am tired.  I am so so tired.


He loves them so much.  I don't know how to tell them.  I don't have the right words.  I look around at my friends, the ones who are walking with Him and I want to yell out to them.  Don't you see?  Don't you see everyone?  Won't you help?  Please?


There are so many.  And I am tired.


But mom it's exciting.  I can see parts of Him in them.  I can see the parts He's mad for.  And I understand.  There's something irresistibly beautiful about our souls, about the way He has put us together.

I drove to a small town, I drove until early in the morning with the windows down and the heat blasting and my radio drowning the air.  I sang to Him and I cried to Him and I walked around the downtown.  It felt like magic.  And on the way back, I could not stop smiling.

Wherever I am, He is.  And He will always be stronger.  For that I am grateful.