On Christmas.

Let's be honest, I've yet to have one of those emotional revelations of the holidays this year. The typical one that I seem to rush the words out to make me feel connected to the rest of the world. Most holidays don't seem like holidays right now. A lot of it is environment and different perspectives and I'm in a completely different country all together that doesn't have snow a only couple hours away. Fireplaces and hot cocoa filled with marshmallows aren't even close to being mumbled on someone's lips. If fact, the only reason I know it's cold other places is the amount of pictures of snow and the hundreds of snow day facebook status' running wild. 

The truth is, I went swimming yesterday and basked in the sun. Because it is summer. My mom sent me a picture of a christmas tree and maybe that helped a bit knowing she was getting in the spirit... Still, I'm far removed from most things that I associate with the holidays. It's weird. 

I didn't have thanksgiving and the now traditional tree decorating the day after christmas with the Duke/Hypes family. I didn't have my first Starbucks Peppermint Mocha commemorating the holiday season. I didn't have the typical conversation with Jessi's grandma and family trying to find the closest starbucks that is always at least 10 minutes away...but I prevail anyways. 

It's strange how we associate those things. And without those associations those feelings don't seem to surface quite like they are supposed to. I've never been a fan of Christmas. 

Let's rephrase that. I've never been a fan of what Christmas' baggage brings. I hate that I never felt up to par with other children, but now I hate the fact that I felt like that. Because I was missing the mark. But I love Christmas. I love the unity of what it is meant to represent. I love how half of the traditions really do have a deeper meaning associated with or how even in, if not in original origin, new traditions symbolically symbolize a meaning bringing rebirth or all new purpose to something that adds into the christmas story. 

It's really is beautiful. 

I've never been a tacky, cheesy person though. I find myself to like classy things. (Maybe it's my opinion.) (people that have seen otherwise, wash it from your minds. yes, even that one, funny time.) (yes, I'm talking to you)

Christmas Music. 

I don't enjoy it. 

Minus Hanson's Christmas or N'SYNC's christmas albums. You know what I'm talking about. 

But in the last couple of years I have found a few albums that I think are beautiful and not-really cheesy in the slightest and I'd love to share. 

1. A Christmas Together 

A compilation of 4 volumes of music by talented artist of all different variety bringing meaningful and some fun songs to the masses. Tyrone Wells, Tim Timmons, Evan Wickham, Pawnshop Kings, etc...

Every Christmas season they do a tour that feels like family living room sessions and after these sessions, whether you were in the spirit or not, you feel grateful for the season and the compilation brings new light on life. 

2. Sleeping at Last- Christmas Compilation 2013 

It's free and beautiful. 

"Each year I record a Christmas cover song and give it away for free. It’s my version of a Christmas card. This has been tradition for many years now… for so many years in fact that it has accumulated (like snow) into this13-song Christmas album, I call my "Christmas Collection."

This year I chose the John Lennon and Yoko Ono classic, “Happy Xmas (War is Over.)” I had so much fun working on this one! I hope you enjoy my take on it and consider it a worthy addition to my ever-growing Christmas Collection. Thanks for listening!! - Ryan (Sleeping At Last)" 

3. The Civil Wars- Oh Come, oh come Emmanuel 

ALWAYS worth a listen. 

4. A Very She + Him Christmas 

Who doesn't love the adorable Zooey Deschanel + M. Ward duo. 

5. The Branches- Songs for Christmas  

Great harmonies and good causes. 

The album is a pay what you like kind of deal. Either for free or whatever is donated goes in support of Invisible Children.

"All tips received during this Christmas season will go to support the programs of Invisible Children directed at the reconciliation of children displaced from their homes by the LRA. No child should be away from their families, especially during the holidays. Help us give to this organization working towards bringing these families back together."

The Branches are for fans who enjoy Mumford and Sons, The Lumineers and The Head and the Heart. 



With that, I hope you all have a fantastic holiday.  Drink some hot cocoa for me, tell me a fun story and take a moment to value the importance of what this season means. 

a list

Mainly because I can't seem to focus my brain on one single subject at the moment, I'm going to make a list. Then you will semi-understand that I think I am going insane,

Note to self, write this down. Map out + brand your blog future. 

side note: create another new blog that fits the purpose to write freely and creatively. 

To visit the United States or not? 

A prayer: Jesus clear my mind. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to dream or not dream in my slumber but just give me clear focus that isn't hazy from irrational notions of fear and paranoia. 

Maybe I should take a technology fast for a bit. Or maybe it should just be a pinterest fast. I miss the days of creating without there being a shadow of someone else being exactly like you. Or someone saying, Oh yeah I say that on pinterest. 

To move or not to move? 

Is thinking about buying a house even a good idea. 

I miss having a 9-5 job. I hated having a 9-5 job. In general, I miss having a job. 

It would be really awesome to have a house that's community based and Jesus-centered. Plus, have a community garden and some chickens. 

Note to self: Read up on Pinterest how to garden. 

Are my thoughts normal? 

I'd love to photograph people more. I'm afraid of people. 

Maybe, I should learn how to drive again. Meh, another day. 

I miss sandy toes and the ocean's waves.

I should make a happy list. 

I wish I created more. 

I just forgot my next thought. 

thinking

still thinking

it's gone 

Maybe I should go work out. 

No, I'll let the french toast I just finished settle. 

I wish Jayde was here. 

His job sucks. 

Maybe I should consider grad school again...

The list actually continues but writing down all my thoughts is kind of exhausting. 

Am I having a nervous breakdown? 

apathetic + restless

If you give a girl a thought... 


The last few days I've been in one of those moods. The kind where you don't know what you want to do but you don't want to do what you're doing. Television and movies didn't suffice. Reading, eh. Crafting, not so much. Nothing really sparked anything in me. 

Then to add to the entire thing, I haven't been sleeping. Either crazy amounts of strange dreams or being wide awake until four in the morning, then I have this RLS type things that happens to me where I feel like my leg feels really heavy and I can never get comfortable. Depending what I'm wearing I have to change a bunch. First, it's the socks that make me uncomfortable. Then it's the leggings. On any normal day I live in leggings but something about nighttime, I start getting really claustrophobic and have to change into baggy pajamas. Then sometimes the covers become too much and I have to take them off my leg. Then I remember it's winter and cold. So, the covers come back on. Repeat. 

Then I start thinking, I start thinking how I only see glimpses of myself these days. Then that makes me sad. I start thinking about my friends and how I feel like I'm hiding out from all of them because I don't necessarily have "great" things to report to the mainland. Then I start reading news articles about planes crashing, children dying and my level of fear becomes a heightened train wreck. I check my facebook and a friend's friend and wife, colleague died on a freak accident while visiting the United States. They were CEO's of a non-profit and then you start thinking about all the people involved. Then what's next.  It's not even your life and you can't help but feel for them. 

Then there are moments when you find out one of your best friends is engaged and you are so happy for them but the only thing you can do is cry. And think, that would have been nice to have been there to share that moment. For them to be face to face or voice to voice, sharing that the love of their life has just proposed and they are getting married. Then you start thinking about how everything that you thought would be isn't as planned. Which is fine but then you start thinking more and the conclusion is an existential existence where you just don't understand life.   


.... she will run away with it and join the circus. 

Organizing: mind, spirit and life.

Do you ever have the problem to where you have one thing churning in your mind?  

You want to release it but lack of energy, motivation, or even tools seems to win. Then in conjunction, corresponds with the rest of your ideas, existence, or being. That this one thing manages to manifest into the simple, less thought-provoking things and that fixation that you still haven’t done the one thing you were wanting to do in the first place hasn't been done. Yet somehow,it effects the day-to-day and everything else manages to be placed on the back burner.

That’s how I feel with most aspects in life. Not just metaphorically but the physical, the spiritual, and the emotional.

I decided to put the one big thing that’s been churning at me, the one thing that I want to get out and explain, I decided to take the pressure away and start working on the little things.

Besides, isn’t it the little, small things that begin to add up? It’s the small things that become overlooked until we’re drowning in small issues and tasks that just originally needed to be pruned and maintained a bit. But they add up, and then restoration has to happen. Often times stripping the entire piece just to get to the core of what it is and start over.

Wow, I wasn’t intending to pour all this out.

I wanted to take the time to show you some of the details in my room in South Africa. Nothing fancy, just a couple visuals. 

please note the crooked lamp. it just doesn't want to stay straight. 

some random crafting + painting. had some bad dreams one night and decided to paint a dream catcher. 

postcard from time spent with my friend ashley in boston + a note for Jayde's wallet

tink the cat + perfect window lighting 

Airplane epiphanies

Something about airplanes. 

They always get me thinking. I'm sure it's because I feel trapped in them and have no control over my life at that point.i also think flying is a foreign concept. I wasn't made with wings. Therefore how am I in midair.i tend to pray a lot on planes and ponder god more frequently that I normally would when not flying. I think that has to do with vastness. I look out the window and I see the ground below and the sky above me. Nothing new under the sun. But in this case it's a different perspective.

Everything on land is so small compared to what is above me. On ground everything looks like giants and far bigger than it really is. But once I take myself from that life, it looks different and a lot less big and scary.

Then I start pondering the vastness of the creator.thinking why me, why was I created. Why any this? Then I start thinking about the sunrise. Dawn is a new day, new Beginnings and a color palette of beauty. I think we could learn something if we experienced more dawns.

Coming from the mouth of a girl who hates mornings. I hit snooze a million times because I can't get out of bed. Then I finally end up rolling out of bed and run out the door.
But dawn. It Is a calming concept. no, it is a calming reality. It's slow but well worth the outcome. A perfect example that our beginnings matter just as much as our endings. The beginning is where we begin to understand waiting.

Acts 2

“‘I saw the Lord always before me.
    Because he is at my right hand,
    I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest in hope,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
    you will not let your holy one see decay.
You have made known to me the paths of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence.’^[e]

///please excuse if it doesn't make sense, it was about 6am when I wrote this

thankfulness and light

This time of the year always makes me sad. I mean, like, really sad. Most things have the potential to set me off and I could be in near tears. I'm not really sure why. Everyone else around me appears to be a bundle of joy. Seeing everyone else happy makes me cynical. I know what you're thinking. Who is this girl that wishes sadness upon everyone she comes in contact with. This is not true any means. I would rather everyone else be happier than I was during this time. But my cynicism sprouts through jealousy of everyone's joyfulness. Jealousy and joyfulness. . . which if you know the definitions to those words at all... you should know that those words should never be in a sentence together and I have CLEARLY missed the point of it all. Well, my you are right my friends, I have missed the point completely as I do every year. 

Once upon a time I thought my sadness came from the fact that holiday tradition doesn't really run in my family, stockings weren't stuffed and I never really got what I wanted. Christmas was another looked over day. Then through a random conversation a few years ago with friends and family... I voiced my opinion.  Things started changing. I still felt empty. Go figure. 

Where every year around this time, I still feel filled with sadness and a chronic jealousy of other people's joy.  Where has my joy gone? 

Around this time I spend a lot of time alone. Taking various drives and means of escaping just to declutter my thoughts and values.The other night I went to this holiday concert with some awesome artist(pawnshopkings, tim timmons, molly jenson, to name a few) at my church singing christmas songs and carols. But all of them filled with joy overflowing even in dismay. They have found what they are looking for. 

Coming back to the idea that I have missed the point of what joy is and what this day means. It's not about stuff. Yes, gifts were involved but not like we understand them now. The wise men brought Jesus gifts all with extreme value and extremem meaning. 

Gold, frankincense and myrrh. Gold representing royalty and kingship on earth. Frankincense, a sweet smelling smoke, representing that He is divine. Myrrh, an embalming oil, that foreshadowed what was to come. Death. Jesus would sacrifice his life to redeem our souls.  

My soul has been redeemed. hallelujah. 

So I ask myself again. 

Where is my joy. 

I am saved. The Mighty One died so I would have life. 

For in this moment, I have missed the point that I have only looked at a small portion of the story. 

There are far greater things ahead. 

thoughts on prayer

hope in the storm

I have this thing where I feel the need to be informed about things going on in the world. 

Call me crazy. 



So, I fill my brain with countless news stories, imprinted images,imprinting words in the back my mind that I can't seem to escape. I see all this hurt, all this death and devastation. It makes me incredibly emotional. Yet, I feel if I don't educate myself then I'm ignorant and blissfully happy. But there comes a point where I have to stop and shut myself down, which a lot of time I shut down the items and problems in my own life. 

That's how I feel about Africa, the continent as a whole and Zimbabwe. The more I involve myself in the relations I will have no where else to go but there. But more presently, the East Coast.  When missionary friends of mine had traveled to other countries for long periods of time on end, a common response would me. "My life has changed but I know realize what a passion I have for the United States and being a light there." I kind of always took it as a not for me kind of phrase until recently. 

Hurricane Sandy. I skim through photos and see lives that have been turned over. I think of the ones who have lost there homes or the others that don't have homes except for the flooded streets. Then the ones who have lost loved ones. et cetera.  And the only thought in the back of my head is going, if not to only pick up the trash that covers the streets just to make things new.  It's the call to action. 

I told you I was going crazy. 

My mindset has been shifting a lot lately. For youth, we have been focusing on prayer and what that looks like. Although, I haven't been as diligent as I should be by doing the studies and all that goes along with it, I still find myself thinking about prayer and God a lot more than before. And the 1 Thessalonians verse, pray without ceasing, is becoming more vibrant in my life. 

So as I sit in my office at work, I will be impulsively finding ways to go to the East Coast and rationally  talking myself out of them over and over. 

Dying of a broken heart

I've been contemplating the heart lately. Contemplating the soul. What that looks like. What that means.

 Then even more in depth,  when you throw love in the mix. What that is supposed to feel like.  And most importantly, be like. Because I've been learning that love is more than just an adjective it is a verb. It is a call to action amongst whatever love comes in contact with or whom.

I heard a story in the office today, a woman's father-in-law passed away last week. Then she got news a week later that her mother-in-law passed as well. The cause of death, a broken heart. During that week she would explain that her chest hurt but nothing was causing the pain. Nothing medically proven that is.

She died of a broken heart. I've heard stories like this before.  I've read stories about it. Even in science journals. It is trended that it occurs mostly in women.

The Heart

Mayo Clinic's definition:

Broken heart syndrome is a temporary heart condition brought on by stressful situations, such as the death of a loved one. People with broken heart syndrome may have sudden chest pain or think they're having a heart attack. These broken heart syndrome symptoms may be brought on by the heart's reaction to a surge of stress hormones. In broken heart syndrome, a part of your heart temporarily enlarges and doesn't pump well, while the remainder of the heart functions normally or with even more forceful contractions. . .

The symptoms of broken heart syndrome are treatable, and the condition usually reverses itself in about a week.

The heart is an interesting thing. It's function is more than just a mechanical to the way the body works. It pumps blood but it is the root of life.  So when we look at the idea of someone dying of a broken heart we see this.

Source: nike53.bilddagboken.se via Karin on Pinterest

 The point is the heart has taken an action derived by love. Whether lost or present. But if the heart is more than just a function of pumping blood what else is it attached to?  It is attached your soul. Our soul is who we are and that directly relates to what we do. One without the other seems to be, from what I understand, impossible.

For wisdom will enter your heart, and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. Proverbs 2:10

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Matthew 11:29

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Psalm 84:2

Source: myrevelment.com via Samantha on Pinterest

When it comes to love and what that looks like, I've had a hard time differentiating a lot especially in my relationship with God. I've never had to share him before. Maybe my usage is wrong in this case but that's how I feel. Especially the more vulnerable I become with another. I find my thoughts go to this man that I love and feel guilty. Because words I might think about God have now poured over to how I feel about a person.  "I am my beloveds' and he is mine."  It is confusing for me. Through time, I find I've started neglecting God and that's something I've never want to do. But love with another is a good thing. Read Song of Solomon, there is beauty in that and God created that for me.

Source: etsy.com via Samantha on Pinterest

I have been processing this thought for almost a year now. It's been an emotional struggle. And I begin to understand why some people commit their lives to celibacy-- to never lose site of the one who gave it all. But God knew that wasn't for everyone because we long relationship. We long to love. I long to love.

Source: etsy.com via Samantha on Pinterest

Some wait their entire lives to find the closest thing to that. Some never find it. The important thing is love but love who you encounter as we are taught to love. We are taught to love with our whole heart. Thinking like that is when I begin to understand how someone could die of a broken heart because they loved with everything they had. 

From a confessional booth.

Pulls the curtain back. Sits in the chair. Turns video camera on. Clears throat. "Am I doing this right?" "Is this thing on?" Here it goes. Nervously looks away from the camera.

Don't worry folks, there is no scripted material here. 

This is reality. Not a false reality. Although, more recently I feel like I'm living in a false reality or secretly hoping that things aren't really as they seem and this was just a practice year. 

I have come to the understanding that I am neither here, nor there. I seem to be experiencing a discontentment in my existence.

It brings me back to Lewis Carroll's I picture Alice going through the rabbit hole learning her lessons of the "Coming of Age" and what the really looks like.  As her adventure ends, she wakes up from her dream. She is ready to grow into a lady, for she has gained wisdom in foolish ways. The foolish and childish ways are what will make the journey stick. She will always remember that she will never be old to dream and never be too old to learn something new.

home. A little background, I have always struggled with the idea of home. From the time of being a babe to the early stages of being an adult, the consistency of the same red, brick house is what I considered home. Six years later, when any person asks me where home is,  I find myself unaware of how to answer. My only response is "I am homeless." There is a constant confusion.

Years of analyzing home and what do I have to show for it.  A lot of slight understandings. And the most frustrating. I don't know if I will ever feel connected. I seem to find a little but of home where I go. Then manage to leave a piece of my heart. So as time progresses, I feel more and more scattered. Wondering how I'm supposed to be reunited with my pieces of home.

lost. Last January if you were to ask me, where was next the next step. California was not on my list. After some struggling with God. I realized he called me to stay and be still. In my opinion, I find I am in wasted time*. But, perspectives seem to be different.That's okay. Looking back, I'm sure I will reminiscent on that time saying, "Hey, remember that time that I felt like I was floating with no real direction, yeah that was fun." Being lost is not really fun for me at the moment. Especially, when I can't even figure out where I am. All I know is when I am sitting in church I get this feeling that I don't want to be here.

x marks the spot. Where is here. Here is there. There is here. Here is where.  Figure that one out. Then get back to me. Here, spiritually. That's a loaded question. Just give me Jesus. Here, physically. When I close my eyes, this is how I seem to picture myself. Photojournalist style in the field somewhere. Writing wherever I can find a place, mainly busy places. In some sort of trance or zone that whatever I am working on is powering itself. That words are spilling on the screeen. Images are speaking for themselves. That the story of whatever it is wants to get out. It must get out. I can picture myself so driven.  Then I open my eyes, look around and I see a living room and a couch that I am all too familiar with that seems to get more of my time that anything I am actually passionate about.

Source: facebook.com via June on Pinterest

confession. I live in fear. Almost everything in my life brings fear. I want to plan everything. I need to plan everything. I am a controller of time. This is an oxymoron of what I believe in. Especially what drives the woman, I feel I am becoming or am striving to become. The woman that I believe God is privileging me to be.

moral."Stay foolish, stay hungry.- Steve jobs. 

Looks at the camera. "The best is yet to come." Turns camera off. Walks away.

Source: i113.photobucket.com via Samantha on Pinterest

 * To my friends and family,  who I get to experience life with. I just wish we could experience more together. You are not wasted time. Talks over cups of coffee, friends being united, African adventures, Scotland love, good beach days. I do cherish all of it. The moments of loneliness and anxiety and me not being a good steward of my time. That is where my regret lies.

transition.

Transitions. Let's be honest. They are inescapable. They are everywhere, you can't hide from them you can't not use them.

First they impose in writing. Then they become imposters in our life whether we want them or not. That's the things with transitions, there are always two kinds to a story. There is the seamless, perfect transition that just makes sense. Then there is abrupt shift in change that begs the question, WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON WITH THE WORLD.

Transitions.

For the last 12 months, I have been in transition. Looking back on it and looking forward on it. When is there not going to be a transition. Life is a constant changing state. I can also say with honesty that this year has not been my best with everyone encouraging me there is a reason for everything. Actually, not in the cheesy way, but with utmost concern and with actual hope that this stage in life is just the beginning to something bigger. But what makes this year different than last.

Last year, I would proudly tell you what state of life I was in. With a smirk on my face, I would boldy say, Well, I am embracing the mystery of life. 

Somewhere a shift happened.  Is it my age? Last, I checked I've only grown a year old than the year before. Thus, this thorn in my foot, this transition has to do with me.  And it seemed to be almost seamless--this is scary.

I hope to once again be able to say, smugly, I might add,  I am embracing the mystery of life.

Without transition, the world is in a scary place.  Life would be in a boring place. The transitions are what take us to our intended purpose. A purpose that doesn't always look as planned or look like it should in the conventional sense.

*                  *                   *                     *                      *

All of this came into play within the last 24 hours. A very grownup revelation. Last night as I was nannying a girl I really enjoy spending time with. She and her cousins asked me if I had kid. I laughed. "No, I don't have kids. I mean, I could but no, I don't need one." 

This seemed like a preposterous that. Mainly, because I get the question regularly "Oh, what are you studying in school?" Et cetera. Then a little bit later I was talking to the girls aunt and was asked the same thing. "Do you have kids?" It's funny. I hate being considered still in school yet I hate being considered that I could be a mom.  Somewhere there is a middle ground, yeah? 

But it made me realize that I am getting older. In the last year, I have had a handful of friends embark in marriage.  I have had a handful of friends make the decision to bring new life to this world. (A good, 6 or 7 of them are having/have had their babies within the last month or 2) A few friends becoming aunts and uncles. I have had friends move across the country and across the world.

In fact, one of those transitions are happening as we speak. At 5:45 this morning, I received the call and rushed over to their house, watching them walk out the front door to go to the hospital. Then waiting for the boys to wake up to tell them the good news. 

How cool is that? 

All of these are transitions. All of them are beautiful. There are the sticky transitions in the middle that add to overlooking and the taking for granted of the good. 

Home is where your heart is: I don't remember writing this

Tuesday: 26 April 2011 


Trolley pushing. Terminal searching. Where the fuck is terminal 5. Terminal 1, 2, 3 and 4 all seem to be clearly marked by the heathrow express.

“Excuse me, how do I get to terminal 5,” I ask.

“You’re in terminal 5,” the heathrow attendant remarks.

“mmmm well then terminal 3,” I stutter. Shit, I got the directions confused.

In another trolley parade I go. Back and forth, back and forth.  Today is going on a downward spiral quickly. Next train to terminal 3 in 15 minutes. Perfect, at least I found it. The topheavy Green rucksack maneuvered on my back. Blue French connection bag on my shoulder and heavy camera bag that weighs just as much as my rucksuck in my hand. All balanced perfectly, any sudden movement shakes my thoughts. As I imaginarily topple over into the mind the gap section. Brutal.  I lean on a wall to stop my thoughts.

Ah crap, I’ve only been here for 30 minutes. What to do, what to do.

Unfinished

Always unfinished

No endings

Only moments

Rarely ever a beginning.

An untraceable story

for something that’s dying to be heard

more than words

more than pictures

hear movement

see movement

watch it ebb and  flow

there’s a story that’s dying to be heard

revolution.

As I’m sitting in the London airport, on this layover that is anything but pleasant mainly because I cannot check my bags and explore like I intended on. So I’m stuck in one section without much companion except for a measly computer. I have no desire to drown out my thoughts with movies, nor can I formulate a thought at the moment, and I’m running from my bible. As I have been for the last 2 weeks or so.  I can’t say I feel nothing like normally. In fact, I feel a lot.

Scotland is a fabulous city. London would be a fabulous city if I could explore, but cannot.  I’ve never really been a tourist. In America, sure but that’s always with the knowing that I’m returning somewhere within days and maybe once or twice in mexico, but once again—that’s still America. But as I tour Scotland, I think I could live here but can’t really picture it. My heart isn’t really for Scotland. Although, it’s a lovely place to visit friends. As I’m on my flight to London from Glasgow—I picture myself in the bush. On field—doing something. African travel seems like a breeze compared to UK/European travel. In Africa travel if something doesn’t work out it’s automatically assumed TIA (This is Africa)—Let’s make a plan. But in UK/European when something doesn’t work out a rise of blood begins and the only words crossing through your mind are cross. Shit. Fuck. Dammit. 

Excuse my language, but I’m just needing to be brutally honest right now.

But take me back to African life. And not just to South Africa which I have began to view as my second home. Not so much in the metaphorical sense but in an actual physical sense. As in I miss my bright pink bed and my family bound through Christ—and other minor factors.

But take me back and put me where I’m called to be. Among something greater. A calling that requires all of me.