Monday, September 15, 2003

“All of my life- I’ve been in hiding…” DCB

No matter what your calling might be, part of the trick of staying passionate is to remember what it was like at the beginning, when something inside you said, “This is it.” ~Kevin Spacey

I wonder sometimes what my calling is. If I really let myself think about what it is, deep down, I think I know. But isn’t that actually scarier than not knowing? To think that the one thing we desire more than anything else, to do for God, is possible? I tend to avoid thinking about it sometimes just b/c it’s so overwhelming. To know that right now I’m being prepared for something, that only I have been called to do- that in the huge puzzle of humanity, I’m the best fit. Or at least I will be, after God does some more shaping and refining. Granted our lives are one big experience of molding and forming us into His image. Sometimes are much more obvious than others though. Right now I know He’s working on me. I worry that whatever it is will call me far away from everyone I love. B/c lately I’ve been much more likely to keep my thoughts to myself, to not share everything with those closest to me. Maybe there’s some selfish reasoning there- they don’t share everything with me b/c they all have their “other” to share with, but I think in a much bigger way, He’s preparing me to not having someone on hand at all times to share with. And as strange as it sounds, I’m ok with that. A little wistful, and I’ve found myself much more nostalgic than usual, but somehow at peace with it.

“Deliver me, courage to guide me. Deliver me, your strength inside me.” David Crowder Band

There’s really no better feeling than nothing that you are exactly where God has called you to be. Or if you’re not there, you soon will be.

Speaking of nostalgia- the weather today is perfect. It’s absolutely beautiful outside. Low to mid 70’s with just a few scattered clouds. I walked outside earlier and if I closed my eyes tight enough, I was back in Bloomington walking up the steps to 820. Sometimes I miss that place so much I can hardly stand it. It really has nothing to do with college, yeah college was great and all, but it has everything to do with that feeling of community. Of knowing that whenever you walked in the door, chances were someone would be on hand to welcome you. Someone would be on hand to listen to you. Someone would be on hand to laugh with you. This time in the fall is the worst. And it’s funny. I know that in fall, things are starting to change and beginning to die down, but I’ll always think of it as a time of new beginnings. I’d trade a week for just one ‘normal’ day in the house. Complete with dripping wet hair to wake me up, (no names needed) serious talks on the kitchen counters, trips to the Bigfoot for $.62 Mountain Dews, climbing on the roof, hearing music blaring from the bathroom where you could always tell who was in the shower without a word being said. (Angry heavy guitar driven, SheDaisy, Christina Aguilera, Billy Joel, and RENT), talks on the porch swing, community taco nights, and Friends reruns. Sometimes I miss it so much it’s hard to breathe. Today’s one of those days. I’ll never forget Bloomington in the fall. Sidewalk chalk, new school supplies, and friends. Some who became closer than sisters.

Some memories I pray never fade.


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